The Right Hand Man
by KLMeri
Summary: Bones uncovers an experiment gone wrong which is killing a colony of innocents; it's his mission to save them, so that's what he'll do… despite those out to stop him—permanently. pre-K/S/M - COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**Title**: The Right-Hand Man

**Author**: klmeri

**Fandom**: Star Trek TOS

**Disclaimer**: I own my imagination—little else.

**Notes:** This is my baby-the story I have been fueling for months upon months. And it's gonna involve a lot of danger, heart-break, suspense, and an entire Enterprise crew. Ye be warned!

**Warning**: My writing style incorporates blatant abuse of proper English grammar. That's right, it's on purpose! Now enjoy the story.

* * *

Doctor Leonard McCoy has little love for conspiracy unless he is the master-planner—like slipping a sedative into a glass of Saurian brandy for irate exhausted Captains, or tag-teaming with said-Captain against stubborn green-blooded hobgoblins for the sanity of Humans everywhere. Otherwise, he detests the mumbo-jumbo promises spilling out of a politician's mouth when he—and everybody else—knows it's ruthlessness and games that gets the prize in the end. He hates it even worse when the Admiralty plays along "for the sake of Starfleet and the Federation."

Once Jim trades in his captaincy for the brass and prestige of an Admiral, Bones just knows that terrible things are to come. A man like _Captain Kirk_ lives for the stars and the action—not the paper-pushing, little pats on the back and sideways smiles.

When Spock leaves them both for the wisdom of Vulcan (and McCoy has a hard time accepting any such wisdom can be found on that emotionless, computerized planet), it twists something out of Bones' heart and leaves little more than a painful shell.

He needs both of his friends; he must have harbored a false impression that they needed him. McCoy remembers all too well how it feels to have your heart ripped out and set aflame; for Jim and Spock to open this grievous wound in him is all the more treacherous.

A conspiracy to end a relationship, before any of them could discover its potential.

So he lets Jim have a piece of his mind ("You're a damned fool, Jim, if you think you'll be happy!") and gives Spock the cold shoulder before packing his own bags and turning heel for the sweet heat of Georgia (and solace for the pain in his chest).

McCoy does not communicate with Admiral Kirk or Mr. Spock for almost three years.

Then he gets drafted, the trio is reunited (he refrains from violence upon their persons), and they save planet Earth once again from the (sentient) thing that is V'Ger.

Only it's not enough to get Jim back into space, nor hold the old Enterprise crew together. They slowly scatter back into their separate lives—most of them do. Doctor McCoy accepts a research post in Starfleet Medical; Admiral Kirk goes back to the desk; and surprisingly, Mr. Spock remains at the Academy as an instructor.

There are some nights when Leonard is so lonely, he almost forgets the bitterness in his heart and comms Kirk or Spock. Instead, he reminds himself that his life is better without them—happier—and has a glass of strong Romulan ale to soothe the voice that says, _you miss 'em_.

He always deletes Kirk's invitations for a drink, and the only time that Spock pays a visit to Doctor McCoy's office with an inquiry into the latest research on something-or-other (he half listens because he is unnerved), Leonard just eyes him and tosses one of many medical journal PADDs into his hands. The doctor knows very well that Spock could have accessed the Starfleet Medical Library.

He is grateful for the chance to get out of San Francisco, a place that seems to close in on him the longer he stays (the harder it becomes to disregard his past). There is a frightful plague on Kaus V, a small farming colony, and a dearth of good research scientists. McCoy has the background and experience to compliment his skills, so Starfleet snaps up his offer to fly out on the next shuttle. The press is determined to mud-sling and point fingers at the Federation—demanding "how long are the Kausians going to suffer?"

The Board wants the situation cleaned up_ fast_ and _soon_; they'll "spare no expense" to save lives and so McCoy is on his way to the colony in less than a fort-night, crammed into a vessel with at least a dozen of other personnel.

He thinks, _Now I can be free._

Out loud, he harps into a woman's ear (she introduces herself as Dr. Barnes, xenobiologist extraordinaire) about rickety shuttles and how he'll be _damned_ relieved to have solid earth under his feet again.

Kaus V is just what he needs, he is sure. He can survive the pressure of saving lives.

It will take three months of exhausting work and dangerous questions before Leonard McCoy realizes that Kaus V is not just a colony with hard-up luck… it's a serious Conspiracy that could cost the doctor his good faith in Man and his life.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"The situation on Kaus V is grime. More than 35% of the colony shows signs of infection and a rising count of confirmed fatalities reaches the high hundreds…"

A series of desolate shots interrupts the commentary—an abandoned farmhouse, barren fields, rows upon rows of occupied hospital beds, the funeral service for a child attended by grieving family (some of whom are blatantly wasting away with illness).

"…the livelihood of these people suffers." Another report chimes in, "Absolutely right, Sue, I think we've only seen the beginning. The Federation Board has yet to address—"

A tall, tailored man cuts off the screen mid-report. He fixes his eyes on those around a long oblong table. "The media is hunting for prey like a pack of dogs, gentlemen."

"No more than they usually do," quips a man on his left. "They blame the Board for _everything_… the draught on Vaxis III, or when the Orion pirates pinched those supplies slated for the Sigma-Phi colony—or how about the time that Andorian ambassador made off with a Thelian princess! A real riot, that one."

"Commodore, you give us all a laugh. Thank you," says an Andorian consulate with little humor.

"I'm just pointing out that we cannot be held responsible—"

"That's enough! The fact is that we know _who_ is responsible for the state of affairs on Kaus V. And I want it cleaned up. Heger," the Human directs his attention to someone farther down the table, "we've got a squealer in the ranks. You'll take care of it."

The (non-descript) person he addresses nods without a word.

He folds his arms behind his back, paces across a line of windows. "The Federation will have to show good faith, be adamant in 'finding a cure.'" He gives them all a hard look. "We need candidates who can keep their mouths shut and follow orders."

"Yes, Mr. Weston, there are plenty of volunteers."

"Good. Enlist the most expendable. We may need to… dispose… of them if the situation is not suitably contained. Dismissed."

* * *

Admiral Kirk is tired of fending off reporters and other busybodies who want to flash his name behind an opinion on Kaus V. He catches tail-end conversations about the colony before (and after) his brief lectures. People shoot curious looks at his approach—as if James T. Kirk might suddenly announce his intentions to save the day again.

Really, it's old. _He's _old.

And if Jim admits it to himself, he_ does_ wish that he can sail in on his Enterprise and fix things up. Or rather, get the best people in the universe (Bones and Spock) to perform the miracles while he does the commanding. But those days are long past, even for a man too young to be an Admiral.

He is certain, though, that there will be a miracle on Kaus V. After all, they've got the best doctor in the 'Fleet working on the cure. (He's not worried—_he's not.)_

Jim rearranges the PADDs on his office desk before he is satisfied that they won't fall over. He_ hates_ paper-work; he should have remembered that at the end of the Enterprise's five-year mission, but instead he saw another rung to be climbed, another star to reach.

What a fool he is. (_McCoy was right.)_

Any other thoughts that might include Bones are abruptly eliminated because that is a sore spot he prods too often.

The door chimes quietly.

_Right on time, as always._

He lets Spock in with a small smile. This has become habit, since Spock's return to Earth, their bi-weekly gathering in his quarters. They generally do not discuss Starfleet business, but rather make use of the 3-D chessboard (and a glass of brandy for Jim—not a tribute to Bones, not at all) to idle away a few hours.

Spock is in need of company as much as Jim, though he denies such sentiment (too Human, Admiral).

They do not discuss their missing counterpart.

* * *

_On Kaus V…_

"Doctor McCoy, do you have those tissue samples of Stage Three?"

"Right here, darlin'. I got what you need." Leonard shots a little grin at Dr. Barnes.

She laughs at him. "You scoundrel, I'm a taken woman!"

"And I'm a lonely, _lonely_ man, ma'am."

"Well, Nurse Salim has been giving you the eye—"

"Lord in Heaven!" he exclaims while adjusting the medical scanner in his hands. "Spare me her attentions, _please_. That _woman,_" he stresses it like another word, "caught me coming out of the supply closet and pinched my bottom!"

This sends Dr. Barnes into gales of gleeful laughter.

"It ain't funnah! I have half a mind to report sexual harassment—"

She's wiping off tears with the sleeve of her blue tunic. "Len, it's those gorgeous blue eyes of yours!"

McCoy is somewhat mollified. "I got my daddy's eyes—real McCoy tradition, blue eyes."

"You can tell me all about your McCoy traditions at dinner. I need to run these babies back to Science for the plasma test."

"Alright. Stop by later an' remind me, Joy. Or I might drown myself in these confounded readings the rest of the night." He waves her off good-naturedly and returns to his work.

Dr. Joy Barnes makes this mission more tolerable for McCoy. She didn't tell him to shove-off after they landed on Kaus V; rather, she complimented him on his stamina to keep up an hours-long diatribe about the dangers of space travel.

She is a very young woman fresh out of the Academy with a new doctorate and a bright future. And since not all Kausians are Human, she's handy to have around for the more difficult medical consultations. Leonard knows a great deal about non-Human physiology (from serving on the Enterprise) but he can be hard-pressed to recite the anatomy of a Tellurite. (He's used to encounters with beings that don't _have_ anatomies—like the Organians—or any quantifiable body parts).

They get along famously. (He thinks of Christine in moments like these.) She misses her boyfriend back in San Francisco (he's command-track), and Leonard is heart-sore and lonesome. They provide each other with good company and a leaning shoulder. Joy has already discovered his tenacious attitude for work, so she wrangles him into resting periods and meals. McCoy knows that she feels nervous (inadequate) for the kind of work they need to do, to save lives, so he coaches her through the rough spots and nips her back into place when she strays or wilts.

Later that evening, after Leonard comes across an odd reading in his data, she is the first one with whom he discusses it.

Their light bantering has come to a standstill over the after-dinner coffee. Joy is fiddling with handle of her mug, lining it _just-so_ with the edge of the table. Leonard watches her with a raised eyebrow and tolerant expression.

"Y'all done?" he drawls.

"Almost, Len, I think—there! Perfect!" She grins at him from across the table. (_A Joanna-grin.)_

He smiles in return. Pulling out a PADD, he hands it to her. "Tell me, Joy, what do you make of this?"

She takes a few minutes, scrolling and murmuring quietly to herself. "I'm not really a microbiologist, Len, but isn't this bacteria found only on an ice planet?"

"This one is specific to the Exo system—one of their Class P's, Exo VI. I read up on the data when—" He winces at the thought of Exo III and the fate of Chapel's Dr. Corby. (How sad she'd been.) "—the Enterprise made a detour there."

She does not ask about the story in his eyes.

"The bacteria thrive in a high-pressure, nutrient-poor environment. There's a neat little article about how they have adapted their biochemistry to survive deep in the ice."

"And you're saying that _this_ is the cause of the plague?"

"No! I am not drawing conclusions on _anything _at this point, not without more tests and more knowledge." If he thinks of Spock fleetingly, he can forgive himself the slip. "It is a common link between the cultures I've been testing."

Dr. Barnes considers him before offering some hope. "I know a fellow back at the Academy. He's keen on these kinds of microorganisms—ultra-micro's he calls them." She smiles at that. "I will contact him, see what he knows."

"Okay," McCoy says. Then he crosses his ankles, pours a little bourbon into his coffee, and grins mischievously (like a no-good adolescent). "Did I ever tell yah about the time my mama came home with a two-headed chicken?"

* * *

Doctor McCoy makes a vigorous study of the newly discovered (strange) bacteria. It's one of the more terrifying anomalies he has ever come across because of the rapid damage it wreaks on the body cells in such a short time. (Remember Dramia II, McCoy?) He refuses to contemplate the implications of such a disease leaking beyond this quarantined colony. Decontamination is a poor defense the healthy have—it really does little good if it cannot_ neutralize_ that which contaminates. They are vigilant as possible in utilizing the precautions that safeguard the medical/science staff from the sick (dying) Kausians.

After issuing a few last-minute directions, he meets with Dr. Barnes in his office.

"I contacted that microbiologist, and we had a very enlightening conversation. Here is some data he sent along," she pats a PADD perched on the edge of his desk. McCoy peruses the data while she summarizes the findings. "Jimmy says that the ultra-microbes have a somewhat limited ability to reproduce due to low-temperatures but become extremely aggressive once introduced into a warm, moist environment."

Leonard almost misses the rest of Joy's sentence because his heart heard _Jimmy_ and started pounding like a drum. He takes a deep breath, shakes it off.

Pacing helps clear his mind. Once all of his thoughts are organized, he tosses out the foremost one while bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Destructive like Legionella (centuries ago)—the kind that can resist the immune cells, kill 'em. I figured that the Kausians suffered from an immunological deficiency 'cause of the toxics neutralized in the soil before colonization—it's happened before. But that was a _long_ time ago, Joy."

"So the Exo bacteria is introduced into the body—which jumpstarts its reproduction—"

"—and causes a massive infection that the body has no way to combat."

"But we've tried the typical treatment for bacterial infections. None of them work, Leonard! You know—"

"Yeah, I do." His shifts in the clinic are agonizing, because no one has discovered an (even minimally) effective treatment. Hell, they can't stop Stage One from progressing! (The Kausians enter a fast decline after Stage Two.) There is little help to provide, except easing the pain and fever.

"This kind of bacterium is nasty, Joy. It leeches all the nutrients out of the body; eats at the epithelial tissue until the organs fall into pieces. Hell, it'd be the perfect way to kill a man! At this point, no doctor could save him."

"That's what disturbs me, Leonard. How does a unique type of bacteria from thousands of miles inside a _glaciated_ planet get on a farming colony like Kaus V?"

"I don't know, Joy. I really don't. But I'm damned well going to find out!" Leonard reaches for his comm-unit.

* * *

McCoy spends the next two weeks arguing up a storm with the Almighties. His lab team works diligently on this new breakthrough. Even those who rotate through clinic duty know something is afoot. What remains to be understood is how the Exo bacterium found itself on Kaus V; it's still anyone's guess and Doctor McCoy's priority.

Leonard figures if he has to stir the hornet's nest to get some answers that's what he'll do. He is on Kaus V to stop a plague, and no damned official is going to deny his questions! So far he's been fed lines about privacy laws on pharmaceutical research by the Kausian government, which makes little sense because if Leonard licensed in anything—it's medical treatment. You don't introduce tissue-eating microorganisms as _drugs_ (for torture maybe, not healing).

Someone wants to pull the wool over his eyes. So they ignore all the rules of play and tell him to be a good little doctor—focus on the cure. Well, he sure as Hell isn't going to find the cure if he doesn't understand what he's up against!

They are idiots, every last administrative Head he has conversed with (snapped at). Bureaucratic fools with ice cold hearts.

"How many more of these poor people have to get buried before they pull their heads outta their asses!" A smattering of agreements from his colleagues follows his outburst.

Joy puts her hand on his arm. She says, "We're with you, Leonard. We're all with you."

* * *

Weston stoically watches the recorded vid of the ranting doctor. "—we're working ourselves to the_ bone_ trying to save lives an' we're still losin' the battle, _Sir_. If the Kausian government won't unhinge their God-damned closed mouths to explain _an'thing_ to me I don't see how—" Only the _tap-tap-tap_ of his finger against the armrest gives any indication of his mood. When the vid ends and the Southern fool (one Doctor Leonard H. McCoy—he consults a PADD) on the screen disperses, he opens a new vid-line to Heger. His orders are succinct. "Code Four. Comm me when it's done."

As his face transforms into _very-grave_, Weston straightens his shirt cuffs and brings in his secretary. "My dear, put me through to the Federation President, full security encryption please. I am afraid that the status of Kaus V is critical."

* * *

Jim settles into his seat along with the rest of the Admirals. Some chat amicably among themselves; others appear peeved at this "emergency" meeting. Jim is used to the whims of Starfleet, so he says nothing at all.

The meeting goes on for the better part of an hour in which the administration talks standard shop but does not indicate any real reason for the attendees' required presence.

Finally, Admiral Cartwright jumps right in. "If there's a point to this meeting, get to it."

No wonder the cadets call him Admiral Klingon (his lack of manners). If he is aware of the nickname, he never indicates so. Anyone who knows Cartwright understands just how much he dislikes Klingons. Jim bits the inside of his cheek at the thought.

Ah, the fine lines of disobedience. McCoy could certainly go toe-to-toe with this man.

"You are aware of the situation on Kaus V. A recent development has come to our attention. A new bio-security threat puts the risk levels beyond regulation tolerance. Therefore, in the interest of the welfare of our Starfleet officers, we are ordering all personnel to evacuate Kaus V. They will continue their research here on Earth, and we will send a specially-equipped Emergency Ops Team in their place."

The uproar is instantaneous.

"You're pulling out! But—"

"—better than killing our own—"

"—abandoning Federation members! The Kausians will perish!"

"SILENCE! This is _not_ a discussion committee. Kaus V is officially Critical. Dismissed."

Jim closes his eyes—blocks out the voices, scraping chairs, and outrage.

Bones is coming back.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"What the Hell do you mean we're leaving!"

Doctor McCoy is shouting in the corridor at a dour little man who visibly shrinks.

"Do you not understand what a medical staff does? We're fighting a plague, you FOOL! Without_ our_ help every last Kausian is gonna _die!_"

"Doctor, I have orders—"

"Stick those God-damned orders straight where the sun don't shine! None of _my_ people are going _anywhere_." McCoy turns on his heel and all the lab techs scamper out of his way as he comes barreling in still cursing and stomping.

They send up a little cheer as the lab door whisks shut in the Commodore's face.

McCoy scowls at them (it's his good-natured scowl—they can read triumphant in it) and says, "Well, what are ya'll standing 'round for? Get back to work!"

* * *

"Mr. Weston, we have a problem, Sir." The Commodore is sweating.

Weston suppresses his distaste.

"No worries, Commodore. The back-up has been dispatched." He cuts off the comm and goes back to the release forms on his desk. He signs them with a flourish.

* * *

Spock observes Kirk from behind his steepled hands. "May I inquire after your state of agitation, Admiral? Surely Doctor McCoy will arrive on Earth safely."

Jim shoots Spock a look before pacing in the opposite direction.

"We both know that I am not worried about the good Doctor's safety. He'll be fine." Jim almost smiles at the thought of the poor bastard who ends up next to McCoy on the shuttle-ride. "Grumpier than an old badger, though."

"Indeed. I find Doctor McCoy's distaste of shuttle transportation as illogical as his distaste of transporters. Why he would volunteer for a mission that requires space travel, in light of his phobias—"

Spock lets the sentence trail off because there is no need to complete it. The illogicality is inherent.

"The question is why he volunteered in the first place, Spock."

"Admiral—"

"Jim."

Spock pauses, arches an eyebrow very high. "Jim, Doctor McCoy is a singular individual who is incapable of denying his psychological need to 'help' others."

"A man with a heart of gold."

Spock's eyes are sharp with _yes_ though he voices no agreement.

"Spock…" Jim sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "What are we going to do?"

"I presumed that we would play chess as is customary during these meetings."

"You know what I mean! About Bones, what are we going to do about Bones?" He wrenches out a chair and falls into it—sprawled, pensive.

"I have no suggestions. The Doctor is very clear in his avoidance. He no longer desires our company."

The words are painful to hear, especially with Spock's straightforward manner. Yet, Kirk cannot truly accept defeat. Five trying but wonderful years with McCoy—and he's determined to convince Bones that they should have plenty more.

"You are aware, _Jim_," there is a small inflection from the Vulcan, "that the true question is whether or not Starfleet can convince McCoy to leave the Kausians."

"I know that, Spock. Sometimes I just like to pretend that Bones isn't so stubborn."

"A difficult task, I trust," Spock says, and Jim laughs.

* * *

Joy misses their evening meal, and McCoy is only a quarter of the way through a plate of replicated chicken and rice (closest he can find to chicken bog; he peppers it to the gills) when he throws down his fork in irritation. He twists the ring on his little finger, thinking about all the rude things he'd like to say (that he hasn't _already _said) to Starfleet Command.

Now they're interrupting his dinner with their foolishness.

McCoy collects the data disks on his desk and shoves them into a back pocket. He'll just have to take the work to her.

He decides to swing by Joy's quarters first, in case she got caught up in something or other; but he knows she's probably being antagonized by the Commodore and his lackeys to close up shop and head home. _Well, we will see who'll be packing! _He's handled higher-ranking officers than the sallow Commodore. McCoy is not just a fighter (for his cause), but he's a dirty one too.

When Dr. Barnes is in residence, her door remains unlocked (like McCoy's). Leonard frowns when it doesn't automatically slide open; he presses the buzzer. No one answers. One quick decision and he's punching in her entry code. (She's got his too—like leaving a key with the neighbor.)

The room is dark. "Lights, 50%."

And empty.

Completely, utterly bare except for a sheet-less bed against the far wall.

McCoy stares, almost entirely convinced that he has entered the wrong quarters. He does a little turn around the room, clasps his hands to stop their shaking. _I must be losing my mind_, he thinks. There's not even a comm-unit to call for a gurney and straps.

Forcing his hand through his hair, he pauses in the doorway—glances around one last puzzling time. His stomach churns when the door slides shut.

_Has Joy left?_

* * *

Leonard rubs at his stomach (it's uneasy). Something is very wrong. He does not encounter a single soul in the corridors. There's no one waiting for the lift; no harried tech running a report from one department to the next.

No sound, just a hushed quality that raises the hairs on the back of McCoy's neck.

His hands touch his belt where a phaser would be (if Jim were in command). McCoy does not use the wall-comm to hail the lab and announce his destination (ask _where the Hell is everyone?_). He has learned something, at least, from five years on the Enterprise. If your gut says there's trouble, then _yeah_ there is definitely going to be trouble. (How many times has he been where he was needed because of that instinct?)

The lab doors _swoosh_ open. McCoy swallows the lump in his throat. _It's empty too._ The equipment is missing, the tables are barren. It's all sterile white and desolation, as if the last three-and-a-half months never existed.

He swings around the corner into the testing room and has to grab at the wall for support.

It's _not _empty.

_Carnage—_the word sears his mind before the world goes gray_._

Bloody tunics (_so many_) and sprawled limbs, gaping glassy-eyed faces.

A massacre of blood.

Leonard is unable to think sense (to breathe). This is not the facility on Kaus V that he knows. This is not reality.

Three feet from his boots lies Linda (the bubbliest nurse he's ever worked with); he recognizes her braid of golden hair and the trinket_ her mother gave her_ knotted at its end. She has wide, _blank_ eyes. McCoy slides to his knees and throws up his dinner.

It takes a long time (four minutes) before the nausea subsides and his body isn't shaking and sweating quite so badly. Doctor McCoy has been on the battlefield, unable to prevent death. But this room (where they preserve life) is filled with the bits of people he knows—laughed with, yelled at for months; all these _not-strangers_ with hope and hard work in their veins (now seeping onto the floor).

When his brain lurches back into function, it notices that the bodies are not haphazardly fallen (like a quick attack) but piled.

In stacks of four—alternating head-first, feet-first.

It's _wrong_ and sick and –_Joy! Oh God Joy._

He's crawling on his hands and knees, forcing himself to look (to find). Half-heartedly checking pulses on cold wrists.

She's bottom of the fifth stack, and tears are trailing down his face. _My poor sweet girl._ She's young, too damned young to die like this.

_Like this._

That gets McCoy stumbling to his feet because he needs _security. Needs a weapon._ There are _monsters _in the building.

But he doesn't make it far. Footsteps and hushed voices echo from the front of the lab. Leonard is barely hidden behind a desk when they enter the room.

"We have found no others, Sir. All quarters are clear."

"Keep looking until I call the retreat. Use the bioscanners. If you receive a signal, find and remove the source. No exceptions."

"Yes, Sir."

"Send Betas Two, Three, and Six up here. The—" this (cold) man barely pauses, "—evidence must be on the shuttle. Dismissed, One."

"Sir!"

When he is sure that they have left the lab (barely makes out the quiet _hissing _of the doors), McCoy slumps against the side of the desk. He registers the digging in his back and pulls out a data disk. It only takes five seconds of staring at the thing before McCoy realizes, _My God, what have I done?_

* * *

Leonard thinks of survival. He has his research notes in his hands and little else (a medikit he unstrapped from a body). Since this data is what brought the beast back to the lair, it is invaluable. (It is murder.)

Whatever danger lurks in these halls will harm more than just McCoy. (_Joy_, the name rings hollow.) The Kausians—who already suffer—will perish down to the last child. Then who will be next? So what little fear McCoy harbors for himself, he has in abundance for the rest of the galaxy.

But it's barely a way to keep himself going (from walking out into the open, saying _Just do it already_). He's a doctor—just a doctor, not a solider or a tactician. (_Maybe not that brave of a man._) How is he going to survive?

_A sole survivor_, he thinks numbly. Guilt eats into him. (How many men have you evaluated in this condition, McCoy?)

Then, unbidden, he remembers two of the bravest officers he knows. James T. Kirk. Spock.

What would they do?

He sees the data disks in his hands and knows the answer. They would fight back.

* * *

A man in a black Ops outfit marches down the hall, phaser drawn and eyes alert. McCoy ducks through the nearest entryway and holds his breath. He manages to sneak outside the laboratory/medical facitilies, despite a few close calls. Once crouched by a low wall, out of sight, Leonard curses his sense of direction. He can get around a hospital just fine, but finding the shuttle launch-pad is like looking for a needle in a haystack. (He wishes for Scotty; that man could scent an engine a hundred yards away.)

Leonard keeps close to the shadows and observes.

Two men (_Two, Three, or Six_, he thinks) roll out a cart, and there's still a keen sick sensation in his stomach when he sees an arm hanging out. They are transporting bodies. Unfortunately, Leonard has little choice but to track their progress; they're heading to the only escape route available to him.

The soliders make several trips back and forth with cart, dumping bodies against walls in the shuttlecraft (wedging them between seats). Leonard waits until what he believes to be their second-to-last trip before darting into the shuttle. He has to arrange himself under a few dead corpses, tucked near the back to remain unseen. He tries not to space out, face pressed to the metal floor and fingers twitching. He waits.

After what must be the longest hour of his life (forever), the boots have stopped tramping around. The shuttle has been filled with the majority of missing equipment and huge crates of personal affects. There are no computers or PADDs present; except for a man's memory, their research data is stored in such devices. And all memories have been eradicated—except for McCoy's.

When the hatch is closed, Leonard crawls out. The shuttle is brightly lit, ready for use. He twists and turns around objects until he reaches the piloting area (through a set of doors—this model is large enough to transport over one hundred people).

The doctor stares at the controls, not knowing what to do—until he comprehends that he doesn't need to do anything. They've set her on auto-pilot.

What is a shuttle full of dead cargo going to do? Dump its load into space?

No. Not the "evidence."

It hits him. _Oh shit._

A computerized voice activates, says "All persons, please fasten safety harnesses. Prepare for launch."

* * *

On the edge of the launch-pad, the Commodore recognizes Heger. He looks at the silent solider and refrains from asking about his business. Obviously Mr. Weston has sent his right-hand man to deal with this mess. Still, the Commodore is uneasy. He asks, "They boarded the shuttle willingly?"

Heger meets his eyes. "We had to use a small amount of force but, yes, all are accounted for on the shuttlecraft."

The Starfleet officer opts not to think about Heger's words too carefully. He has been nervous since Mr. Weston ordered him to Kaus V to "see the Starfleet personnel safely off the colony." _Better for a man not to question orders._

They stand side-by-side, watching the shuttle rise off the loading dock. It weaves into the sky of Kaus V, high, high above the ground. _Thank God_, the Commodore thinks, bowing under a great relief, _now we only have to deal with the media fall_—

BOOM!

The shuttle explodes into a ball of fire. He can only gape at the massive flare, as little shining embers streak from the sky.

"Oh—Oh my God! The shuttle's—_the_ _people in_—"

Heger turns, observes the shock (the horror) on his companion's face and says, "It seems there was a shuttle malfunction." He walks away. (A crowd grows.)

* * *

Admiral Kirk has to push through the cadets filling the hallways. There is not quite a hush—but the feeling is grave (like grief); Jim's heart clenches. He recognizes this stillness (before an assault).

Two young cadets are holding each other; one, a young man with bowed head as his friend talks to him quietly. The sight gives Jim pause. Before he can voice concern, a cadet next to him gasps "I know that name! Didn't he serve on the Enterprise?"

"Cadet!" Jim snaps out. Several young faces turn to look at Jim, wide-eyed. One young female touches his shoulder hesitantly, says, "Admiral, I'm so sorry. Doctor McCoy—" Kirk doesn't stay to listen to the end of that sentence.

He is shoving now, to get to past the bodies (and enormous sorrow taking up all the air) because there is a loud voice droning out into the hall "—shuttle exploded leaving Kaus V, taking out the entire Starfleet med—"

Kirk breaks through in time to see the live vid-feed (paneled into the wall)—names upon names of Starfleet officers. Names that he knows from skimming the recruitment roster when he had heard that a certain doctor departed San Francisco.

One name in particular—

_Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy._

He opens his mouth (nothing comes out) for the air that has abandoned him. Hands are holding onto his shoulders—many, many hands holding him down (back).

When Jim comes to himself, the vid panel is scattered in pieces across the floor. He realizes (his hands ache fiercely) that he has just attempted to remove Bones' name from a scrolling list of dead.

He never makes a sound because there is no proper sound for a breaking heart.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Over two weeks later…_

Jim gives Uhura a little nod before he moves on (among the mourners). Uhura has been a blessing throughout this entire ordeal. She handles all the little details during the days and nights to keep everyone functioning. (She'd make a great commander.) There is always refreshments, schedules to follow (to keep thought at bay), and a caring hand on shaking shoulders. She reaches out to those who need to know of McCoy's passing, to Starfleet for updates and future arrangements. She gets Chekov and Sulu keep the press at bay and away from all the wounded people McCoy's quarters host.

Jim is grateful to her (when he is able to reflect back).

For now, he keeps his focus on Joanna, Leonard's daughter.

_When Jim been able to resume thought (after an hour or so), he immediately tried to contact Joanna. He knew she had been completing her field training on an outpost as required by Starfleet Medical (McCoy would love to talk about Joanna "following in her Daddy's footsteps"—_Jim knows little now, with regret_). Before he could successfully track her down, a call came through from Starbase 278. It was not Joanna, but rather a young officer with somber eyes. _

"_Admiral Kirk, I am speaking to you on behalf of Jo—Lt. McCoy. I—There is a list of emergency contacts in her files, and you are second priority."_

"_Yes, I am—was," he choked on that word, "a friend of her father's. How is Joanna?"_

"_Sir, I think it would be best if someone were to… come to the starbase to escort her home." He lowered his pitch just a little, concern coloring his voice. "She shouldn't be alone."_

_Jim assured the officer that he would take care of things and to expect the details of her transport shortly. He knew that some of the old crew still served aboard the USS Enterprise (under the command of its new captain). A few carefully placed calls had Joanna on her way back to Earth in the care of friends._

Joanna barely eats or sleeps (Jim also does neither of these). She only twists the ends of a sweater in her hands and stares at all the people with grief-stricken McCoy eyes.

It breaks Jim's heart all over again.

The memorial service for the Starfleet officers killed in the shuttle explosion (a terrible tragedy, they say) will commence in three days. The final public farewell.

There has been no private service for Leonard McCoy.

What does it matter? Joanna says when Jim takes her hand and asks. What good is a service when there is no body to bury? (To return to the earth of Georgia.) Daddy's gone.

The comers-and-goers (who pay respects to the family) whisper in his ear that she is too lost in grief (_it's so hard_ _on poor Ms. McCoy_) but she will eventually unbend and let her father have his peace (and dignity).

Jim wants to tell each Ghoul to go back to Hell. What do they know, understand of the loss of Leonard McCoy? There is a frightening hole in the world now that cannot be filled; it only yawns wide, black, and painful.

His mind can hardly stand to touch on the thought of a future without Bones. That's why it is all the more difficult for him when he accepts the offer to give a eulogy for Doctor McCoy. In his heart, this is a just a dream—he cannot say goodbye. If he does (even in honoring Bones' memory), the dream becomes reality.

* * *

When Joanna goes from desolate to calm, Scotty is the first to notice. He looks her in the eyes and says, "Lassie, are ye alright?"

She smiles (actually smiles) at him and replies, "Yes, Mr. Scott, I'm fine."

"Aye," he nods and takes a quick turn to Uhura standing by door who listens to an official that "likes to keep in touch with the bereaved at such a sorrowful time." Scotty can tell Uhura is very close to snapping (the woman has a sharp tongue when necessary). "I'm sorry, Sir, but I hae to borrow this lass. Mabbe ye could skirt along. We'll caw ye if need be."

"Thanks, Scotty." Uhura gives him her best smile.

"Ye dinna need to thank me, Lassie. I was glad to dae it."

She leads him into the kitchen area and hands him a cold drink. "What's on your mind? Is it the Captain?"

They never refer to Jim as the Admiral in private. He'll always be _Captain _to the Enterprise crew.

"Nae. It's Doctor McCoy's wee girl." There is instant concern in Uhura's dark eyes. "I ken she's a'grieving, Lass, but there's something nae—"

"Not normal?"

"Aye. She's behaving strange."

Uhura pats his hand. "Don't worry. I'll keep a close eye on her." Her expression saddens (in that moment). "We owe Doctor McCoy so much, Scotty. It's the least we can do—looking after Joanna."

He thinks _aye_, and the following silence is a tribute to a friend who will be sorely missed.

* * *

Spock completes a lecture in the science hall and, rather than returning to his quarters, he joins Admiral Kirk in McCoy's quarters as he has every night since Jim came to him late one afternoon, said "_Bones_—", and fell to pieces. In that awful moment, when Jim's wave of anguish flooded through him (and he realized the fate of Doctor McCoy), he could barely utter "I grieve with thee" and have it convey all that which he felt.

Grief is an emotion that batters at his control, like the sundering of a bond.

He knows not how to express his sorrow—pain—for the loss of Leonard McCoy. He recalls, ironically, that it is the Doctor himself who, in the past, has dug deeply into his Vulcan reserve to instigate the release of emotion. Instead Spock gives his presence to those who have need of him (and he of them). Jim leans into his shoulder more often, wipes at his tired (red) eyes, and Spock stands firm.

He takes brief moments for himself (to rebuild the breaches in his shields) in the lulls between visitors, in the evenings when only friends remain. At one such instance, Spock faces the window (the blackness of the night matches his eyes) and meditates with his hands clasped behind his back. There is a brush against him, and Spock locks eyes with Joanna in the windowpane. He is calm under her scrutiny.

She says, "My daddy would tell me stories about you." A brief light flashes in her blue eyes. "_That green-blooded hobgoblin."_

Spock does not acknowledge the jolt inside him. (Her accent is so McCoy, he hears another voice saying the words.)

"You're his friend."

No hesitation. "Yes."

"Good." She looks into his face and nods to herself. Then she smiles down at the sweater that she's been clutching in her hands (later she admits that it was a birthday gift from Leonard), shakes it out and slips it on for the first time since her arrival.

Spock watches her retreat before he turns to Kirk across the room. They share the same silent thought: Joanna needs them.

* * *

Uhura catches Scotty talking to Joanna the day before the memorial service. They both stop conversing the moment she enters the room, and that certainly strikes Uhura as odd. Scotty salutes Uhura on his way out the door. Joanna meets her inquisitive stare, hands in her sweater pockets, and asks if she's ready to go. They head out into the shopping district of San Francisco for tomorrow's attire.

That's when Uhura realizes she needs to keep _one _eye on Joanna and the other on Mr. Scott.

She corners him in the evening with a sweet smile.

"What's going on, Scotty?"

"I dinnae—"

"Uh-uh. You don't get to say that. Tell me right now."

"Uhura…" She merely raises her eyebrow. "I cannae be at the service tomorrow."

"What!" Uhura exclaims. (She keeps her fists at her sides.) "Scotty, you've _got _to be there! This is for Doctor McCoy, _one of your best friends_, in case you've forgotten!"

"Now, now, Lass, dinnae look at me like that. I simply cannae get out of me duties."

"That's a load of bull if I've ever heard it, _Mr._ Scott." She's furious. "Starfleet will be closed the _entire _day just so that everyone can attend!"

"I've got important work, Uhura. Please—"

"More important than honoring Doctor McCoy's memory?"

Scotty silently accepts her accusation. He only replies, "Aye, I'm sorry."

* * *

It's early morning, and the park is already teeming with people. Starfleet was thoughtful enough to provide adequate seating for the fifty-plus families of the late officers; the rest must stand—they do so, all the way out to the streets. Joanna insists that Jim and Spock remain with her and the few family members that fly in for the memorial service.

It begins somberly. Halfway through the eulogies (given by people who tremble or stand tall or weep openly), the atmosphere is thick with mourning.

And through it all sits Joanna on Jim's right, with her chin up and the coolest expression he's ever seen. He wishes he could understand what is going on with her—wishes for Bones—(_Joanna, please, don't shut us out_), but instead he just holds her hand. She squeezes back firmly but never takes her eyes off the (temporary) stage.

Then Jim has no more room for thoughts, because a voice calls his name and he must go. He rises with grace, sharp in his uniform (and strong—others call it, when interviewed afterwards). His hand wants to reach for Spock, but by sheer force he is able to quell the need.

He thinks, _Must this be real?_ No one tells him it's not, so he has no choice but to go on.

* * *

Jim steps up to the podium. He adjusts the microphone with steady hands, looks out over the crowd. (But he's shaking on the inside.) And he begins.

"I am James Tiberius Kirk." People stir and resettle.

"Today, the world is dark. We have lost a man that no other can replace—a man whose selflessness and compassion touched lives across this galaxy. A man whom I have been honored to know."

There is a faint (strange-familiar) tingling which runs along his spine. He pauses, breathes deeply.

"Leonard McCoy was more than just my friend; he was—"

Jim is cut off by a voice (behind him) that drawls, "_Really_, Jim? More than just your friend?"

It's the way the voice says _Jim_ that grabs ahold of him, swings him around.

Doctor Leonard McCoy stands there, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Jim half-folds onto the podium to support his suddenly weak legs. It's _Bones._

* * *

While Jim gapes at him (and the rest of the world goes crazy), Leonard takes the moment to flip open his communicator and order, "In two, Scotty. McCoy, out."

He steps up beside Admiral Kirk (does not touch him) and says into the microphone. "Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Doctor McCoy."

Jim is obviously functioning again because he grabs at Leonard's arm and practically mewls "Bones" in a sort of heart-wrenching way that has Leonard gently grasping his hand and assuring him, "It's alright, Jimmy."

Security is trying to push onto the stage but the confusion hampers them. McCoy knows that he only has a minute to spare. He addresses his (captive-hysterical) audience. "I am Doctor Leonard McCoy, Starfleet medical officer stationed on Kaus V." In the distance there is a familiar shape (a black Ops uniform). "And I need you to know that those we honor today were good, caring, _brilliant _people who deserved to live. But they aren't living, 'cause they were murdered."

He steps away from the podium just as a phaser blast sends it careening. Jim is on him in a second, dragging him to the ground, but Leonard delivers a swift kick that makes Jim roll off of him. Leonard scrambles away.

Jim looks at him (shocked) but before he can say anything, McCoy snaps, "Not this time, Jim." Then there is the familiar buzzing in his ears, and he catches only an echo of a cry (might be his name) before a transporter beam whisks McCoy away.

* * *

Joanna turns to Mr. Spock (who has risen, arms loose at his sides) and declares, "It's about damned time."

* * *

**Note: I hope you all are enjoying this story; I know I am. :) As always, more suspense to come.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"How many more times will I have to repeat myself? I—didn't—know—McCoy—was—alive!" Jim emphasizes each word with a smack of his fist on the table.

"Admiral Kirk, we believe you—"

"Then why are we having the same conversation I've been forced to have three times already?"

"We just want to understand the situation, Admiral. Starfleet Command is as stunned by this development as everyone else." _Is that so?_ Jim thinks, narrowing his eyes at the committee sitting across the conference table. He does not voice his doubts. "And, Kirk, we don't appreciate being blindsided."

_I'll bet you don't! _His mouth twitches.

He takes a deep breath, gathers what little patience he has left, and says (somewhat forcefully), "I cannot answer your questions, gentlemen. And frankly," he rises from his seat (without dismissal), "Leonard McCoy's return is the best thing that could have happened to Starfleet."

One man sighs to himself; another looks amused. It's Admiral Johnson—who has no love for Kirk, nor Kirk for him—that takes offense.

"We are aware of your personal camaraderie with Doctor McCoy," the man practically sneers. "But that does NOT excuse the fact that he informed no one of his apparent-survival, and instead disrupts the memorial service commemorating his dead staff and CLAIMS they were murdered IN PUBLIC!" By the end of this little speech, Admiral Johnson is on his feet as well, literally pointing his finger at Kirk.

"Bones always did like a grand entrance," Jim does smirk now. (Secretly, though, he's more than a little upset at that fact.)

"I'll have you on insubordination, Kirk!"

"To a man of the same rank, Johnson? I think not." Kirk gives a nod to the others in the room, turns on his heel and exits the room.

He's got a doctor to track down, who owes him a very _long_ explanation.

* * *

Joanna is packing her bags when Jim and Spock enter McCoy's quarters. She gives him a brief "Hi" before continuing on about her business, folding clothes. (All the condolence-cards and flowers she's dumped in the trash.)

"Joanna," Jim tries.

No response.

"Lt. McCoy!" he puts rank in his voice. This gives her pause, and she turns to them both with a raised eyebrow.

"Uncle Jim, Mr. Spock. Now, you don't have to be all formal with me, okay?" She is deliberately misunderstanding the order.

Spock raises his eyebrow in return. He makes no reply, but pulls out a chair for Joanna (an invitation). She gives him a McCoy smile. "You're very polite, Mr. Spock. I don't know why my Daddy complains about your manners."

"Indeed, I must agree with you, Ms. McCoy."

"Joanna, please."

He tilts his head, as he sits across from her, in silent acknowledgement.

Jim wonders how he could have forgotten that Joanna is too much like her father. (It might be because she's female—Jim usually gives women the benefit of the doubt.)

"Joanna, how long have you known that Bones was alive?"

She wrinkles her nose a bit at the word _Bones_ but regards Jim with knowing eyes. "I'm sorry, Uncle Jim, truly I am. But Daddy made me promise to keep quiet—and he was very specific that _you and Mr. Spock _shouldn't know."

Jim wants to rail _We should have been the first ones!_ but he swallows his hurt instead.

"When did Doctor McCoy contact you—Joanna?" Spock asks.

"Five days ago." She settles in to tell the story. "Uhura, bless her heart, has been taking care of everything." They both nod in agreement. (_Wonderful, sweet Uhura._) "Well—this is when you were out with Sulu, Uncle Jim—a carrier delivered a letter addressed to me. I know, an actual honest-to-God handwritten letter! Anyway, she handed it to me—I was so despondent, I guess—and asked me if I wanted her to open it. I almost said yes, but that's when I noticed the flourish at the end of the 'McCoy.' I swear to you, I thought I was going crazy with grief 'cause only Daddy does that!" Her eyes are very blue bright. "So I opened it myself, alone."

Joanna gets up from her chair and digs around in one of her bags. She produces a piece of paper, hands it to Mr. Spock.

Spock reads off a date and time. "Fascinating."

"So Bones sent you a letter with instructions for what— Did he vid-comm you?"

"It was pre-recorded, Uncle Jim. And I destroyed the communication after I listened to it, just as a safety precaution." Joanna walks over to them, places a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "It was like seeing the sun after weeks of rain, Uncle Jim, when Daddy appeared on that screen." Her eyes are wet.

"He said, 'I'm alive, sweetheart' and I didn't believe it at first but then he started talking and it was _Daddy _and it was _real_." She lets out a shaky little laugh. "I swear I'll never forget those words. Ever."

Jim is silent because he is picturing Bones through Joanna's words, with a tender look on his face. It almost makes him want to weep too. But there are more important details he needs from her, despite how he wants to linger on the hope (and joy) that has been in him since McCoy transported onto that stage.

Spock takes control of the conversation. "What else did Doctor McCoy say? Were you aware of his intentions?"

"No, Mr. Spock. He simply said he was alive and coming home; that it was crucial no one know. He said I was to keep on like nothing was different, like he was still dead." She mumbles then _I tried I really did, but I was just so happy_. "I couldn't ask him any questions, why it needed to be kept secret. He did say, though, that the situation was dire and that he needed to know I'd be safe. Not knowing the details would keep me safe."

Jim wouldn't have argued that point with Bones.

"He asked me to reach out to Mr. Scott. I copied down a set of instructions and gave them to Mr. Scott when I could without people noticing."

Jim hears the words "In two, Scotty" reverberating in his head, and now he remembers. Of course. Scotty hadn't been at the memorial service. Jim remembers asking Uhura about that, who only shook her head in response to his query. Then the assembly had been called to stand for the initiation of the service, and Jim had forgotten all about the people who were (or were not) there.

Spock looks at Jim, and Jim says to Joanna, "Thank you for your help." They know who's next on their list of interrogations.

"You are prepared to travel. May I inquire of your destination?" Spock says so solicitously that it startles a laugh out of McCoy's daughter.

"I am going to Uhura's, actually. She offered to me a place to stay, since I mentioned that I would rather not be in these quarters when people start banging down the doors for Daddy."

If Joanna cannot stay with him (not with all the officials knocking down _his_ door), then Uhura is a wonderful second choice. Kirk offers to escort Joanna to Uhura's apartment (off the Starfleet grounds). She accepts, and the two of them bide Spock farewell. When Jim returns, Spock and he will catch the elusive Doctor McCoy.

* * *

Uhura greets both the Captain and Joanna with warm welcome. Joanna retires to the guest bedroom to unpack her bags while Kirk lingers in the doorway. When Kirk and Uhura are alone, he minces no words.

"Where's Mr. Scott?"

Uhura looks a little surprised at this question but she responds calmly enough. "Your guess is as good as mine, Sir."

"Well, I need to speak with him. He knows where Doctor McCoy is hiding."

She says something sharp (and likely unpleasant) in her native language. (Jim barely suppresses a wince.) "I knew that man was up to something! Don't worry, Captain, I'll comm you as soon as Scotty tries to set a foot through this door."

"Thanks, Uhura. Oh and, keep an eye on Joanna for me."

"We've all got our eyes on Joanna."

Jim smiles at that, thinks that _yes_ it does take a lot of manpower to keep a McCoy out of trouble. He should know.

* * *

The evening comes in on the tailcoats of a heat-wave. At least, Joanna says this as she opens her bedroom window before joining Uhura for a quaint dinner. Uhura notes that Joanna fidgets every so often, glances at her watch like a woman waiting on her date.

So Uhura decides to take the bull by the horns. "Who are you waiting for, Joanna?"

Joanna misses her glass of water—stops and stares back at her dinner partner. "I'm waiting for someone?" she repeats sweetly.

"Yes, I do believe that you are. And I also believe that it is polite to let your hostess know if she'll be entertaining more guests for dinner."

Joanna blushes. "Ms. Uhura, I—"

There is a crash down the hall. Joanna scrambles out of her chair and is off running before Uhura can grab her arm. She does what any sane woman would—pulls out her standard-issue phaser from its little nook, sets it to heavy stun and heads into the guest bedroom.

Joanna is hunched over a figure, clinging and cursing at the same time. Uhura hears "Sweetheart, you gotta let me breathe—"

"Lights, 100%" she commands. The two break apart and Uhura sucks in her breath. One McCoy looks at her, grinning; the other eyes her phaser—says, "Now, Uhura, I don't think that will be necessary. I'm just an old-country doctor, not a burglar."

"Leonard!"

"In the flesh, what's not bruised to pieces." He sits up completely and flinches. "Too damn old to be climbing in windows…"

"...like a suitor come a'courting," Joanna finishes with a laugh. "Daddy, once I'm done with this hugging, I've got a bone to pick with you."

McCoy has the grace to look a little sheepish. "You could just be satisfied with a hug, darlin'."

Uhura chimes in, "She's not the only one with something to say, Doctor McCoy."

"Alright," he grumps. "Just pour me a glass of something strong, ladies, before you begin."

* * *

Leonard heads straight for Uhura's liquor cabinet and locates the brandy with a familiarity. Uhura (and Scotty) kept in touch with him after the end of the Enterprise's mission, and he remembers well enough this apartment (how neat it stays, with that woman's touch). During the long three years, he only made a handful of trips out to San Francisco. Never got closer to Headquarters than this place on the east side of town, all the while pretending that he wasn't pining after a man named Kirk not too far away—or a Vulcan, even farther (solar systems).

Uhura was kind to him then; Scotty too—in his own way, talking up a storm about engine modifications and how "these young pups don't know a screw from a pin."

Now she doesn't look so kindly, not at all. If anything, Leonard is fully aware that she is about to give him a lecture he deserves. 'Cause it's not nice to let your friends mourn you for two weeks and then suddenly pop in with "Hey, I'm still kicking! April Fool's."

Well, Leonard has accused a great many people of being fools, but Uhura isn't one of them. He owes her (and a Hell of a lot of other people) an explanation. (But he wants to protect them all.)

"Uhura," he begins, "I'm sorry. Truly. Just plain sorry. You'll have to forgive me, as best you can, but I did what I did because there was not much choice. If I could have spared you the pain without risking what's at stake, I would have."

Uhura reaches for his hand, surprising him. "I know that, Len. You're not the type of man to do this without just cause. What I really want to know is… are you okay?"

If her kindness brings tears to his eyes, he doesn't let them fall.

"I've been better," he tries to joke but her eyes say _I'm sorry_.

"Is it true, then? All those people were killed on purpose?"

"Yes." It's a harsh word in his mouth. "My escape was pure luck, Uhura."

It's then that McCoy remembers Joanna sitting next to him, quiet as a mouse. He takes her hand, kisses the top. "What's going on is too dangerous for either of you to get involved in." Before Joanna can protest, he shushes her. "_It is_ _dangerous_. And I'm still your father, Jo, and I'm telling you that I won't let you get in the middle of this. I have a friend who will be waiting at the shuttle terminal for you tomorrow, to take you off planet."

"Daddy, I'm not leaving you."

"Yes, you are, even if I have to tell Scotty to beam you from this couch straight onto that shuttle."

Uhura cuts in with "Joanna, you need to listen to your father. It's better if you go."

McCoy raises an eyebrow at Uhura, quirks his mouth with _thank you_.

Joanna scowls at them in equal parts, but she gives in after Leonard vows to sleep with one eye open and Uhura promises to watch his back. (_He's in good hands, Joanna; we want McCoy to live long enough to see his great-grandchildren._)

That night, McCoy stays over. He lies down on the guest bed (grimacing when Jo's back is turned) and lets her curl up around him. Just like when she was a little girl, he speaks softly against her hair until she drifts into sleep. Some hours later, he slips out of bed without waking her and finds Uhura in her kitchen with a mug of coffee.

"She needs to be at the terminal at 08:15, 43rd docking station. Tell the man you have a passenger for Charon's transport." McCoy hands her a slip. "When he asks for her pass, give him this."

"Who's Charon, Len?"

"A man whose life I saved. So he owes me, and being the kind of man he is," McCoy pauses, "he'll be happy to be rid of the debt."

McCoy hands her one other package. "When Scotty comes back, open this and play it. It should answer all of your questions." Uhura turns the package over in her hands quizzically. McCoy warns her, "Only when Mr. Scott is in the room, do you understand?"

"Leonard," she asks, "what's going on?"

He looks very old (and sad) in that moment. "Something inhuman, Uhura. Very cold and inhuman." With those words, he puts on his dark jacket and departs into the pre-dawn night.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"We do have a transport occurrence of interest: a Valissan raider—top masking circuitry, Sir, we had to dig through sensor readings—"

"Get to the point."

"—sorry, Sir, the raider stabilized in orbit around Jupiter for approximately one hour, in which time we have confirmation of a rendezvous with a freighter vessel slotted for return to the starbase outside Earth's orbit. The raider did not engage in hostile actions."

Weston steeples his fingers, looks thoughtful. "Most unusual. And this freighter docked with no difficulty?"

"Correct, Sir."

"Then we must assume that this is not mere coincidence. Find the origin of McCoy's beaming signal."

Another man (a scientist, by his outfit) in the room says, "You think that McCoy transported to the surface from the starbase or one of its docked ships? But surely without sufficient travel documentation—"

Weston cuts him short. "Your genius never fails to astound me, Hargraves. Doctor McCoy had help, of course. But I am curious, given these mounting facts, how McCoy arranged travel on a Valissan pirate ship without being sold into a slave market. I must admit—it's quite a feat for such an insignificant doctor."

Then he swivels in his chair to address the rest of the men in his office. "Particularly when he should be dead. Heger, you failed to complete the orders you were given."

The dark-haired man makes no explanation, only a short sharp "Sir."

"You'll correct your mistake."

"Yes, Sir."

Mr. Weston adjusts the cuffs of his shirt and goes back to contemplation. "I want to know three things: One, McCoy escaped Kaus V as a witness. How? Two, if he is working with a group of viciously renowned pirates, what type of collaboration do they provide? And three, gentlemen, the most important question of all—does this doctor retain proof of our agenda?"

There is only the sound of nervous breathing.

"Get me these answers—and McCoy's head—and you won't be volunteering to test the latest developmentof our contagion." He bares his teeth in a grin. "Dismissed."

* * *

"Damn it! Why has everyone disappeared?"

Kirk is beyond the game-stage of hunting; now he's at war. (And irritated beyond measure.) In the last hour, Jim has snapped at Spock over trivial details as they worked through what they know (which seems to be very little). At the point where Jim paced the confines of his living quarters, he made a rather uncalled-for remark to Spock as he took a turn behind the Vulcan's back.

And noticed that Spock's hands were grasped so tightly together that they were practically bloodless.

Jim realized, then, that it was taking all of Spock's Vulcan control _not_ to nerve-pinch him.

"Forgive me, Spock, I am just so—frustrated. We are no better off than we were last night!"

"Jim, Doctor McCoy is alive. I believe this to be sufficient enough."

Jim nods. "But how do we reach him?"

"Given time, he will need to come forward with evidence to support his claims."

"So we just wait until Bones jumps into the fray, gets shot to pieces—"

"You exaggerate, Admiral." The Vulcan pauses, considers. "You exaggerate the injuries. The probability that Doctor McCoy _will _meet a fatal end, under such circumstances—"

"Enough, Spock, please. The risk is too high, no matter the numbers."

"Agreed."

Jim crosses his arms and says, "If we can't track McCoy, who _can _we track?" By silent agreement, they won't question Joanna again. (Protecting Joanna includes protecting her from themselves.)

"Might I deduce that, were I Commander Scott, the one place I would never abandon—even under attack—would be the 'Bonnie Lass,'" Spock's face never once changes expression, "as the Chief Engineer prefers."

"Yes, he would be on the Enterprise, wouldn't he? Scotty could hole up in jeffries tubes for months and we'd be unable to flush him out, unless…" Jim jumps into action. "Mr. Spock, your expertise is required. Get us on that ship!"

As always, Spock is one step behind Kirk.

* * *

"Now, Captain…" Scotty backs up a bit, hits hard paneling.

"_Scotty…_" Kirk says it slowly, his face intense.

"Now, Captain, dinnae be mad. I was merely helpin' an old friend in need."

A voice joins in from behind the wide-eyed Scotsman. "Quite understandable, Mr. Scott. However, if you had alerted us to the situation—"

Scotty gasps and points wildly to the left. "_Doctor McCoy!_" When Jim and Spock turn (distracted), he makes a break for the right.

And nails himself on a low beam.

He comes to with blurry faces peering down at him and mumbles, "Ye Gods, that ale musta been som'thing!" Jim helps him sit up while Spock runs a tricorder (_Is that a medical tricorder?_) over Scotty's forehead.

"It appears that your skull is substantially hard, Mr. Scott. There will be no long-term damage."

"Who'ver said you weren'ta real riot, Mr. Spock—I'll have 'em know they were wrong!"

"Alright, Scotty, calm down." Jim pats his back a little. "And I'm sorry. My temper gets the best of me sometimes."

"I ken."

"Now, just, that's right—easy there—" They maneuver him against a side board. Scotty shakes his head (immediately regrets that—his brain wants to slosh out his ears) and groans a little. "What I wouldn't give for one o' Doctor McCoy's _medicines_ right about now…"

"I think we could all use a drink." When Spock is indignant (without expression), Jim corrects himself. "Scotty and I could use a drink."

"You weren't playing fair, when ye led me outta that tube..."

Jim barks out a laugh. "Well, we had to outfox the fox, didn't we, Scotty?"

That mollifies the man somewhat. "Aye, I'd not come out for any other reason." (They'd located him via bioscanner, and then tripped an engine malfunction alarm.)

There is silence for a moment. Then Jim places his hand on Mr. Scott's shoulder. "You know why we're here. Won't you help us?"

"I promised the Doctor I'd not say anything to ye."

"Scotty," Jim is earnest now, "Bones is in serious trouble. We can't protect him if we don't know where he is!"

"He thinks he's protecting you."

That almost stuns Jim. (He'd been so sure that Bones _hated _him.) Before Jim can argue, Scotty breathes out a sigh of his own. "But I tried to tell him, you've—you, Captain, and Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy—always been stronger together than apart."

Spock twitches his upper body, goes still again.

"So I'll tell you where he's gone… for all ye sakes."

"Where, Scotty, _where?_" Jim leans in (does not grasp and shake, though he wants to).

Scotty looks Spock in the eyes, says, "He's gone to _your_ quarters, Mr. Spock."

* * *

"It is illogical."

"You have to admit that it does make a little bit of sense…"

Spock's look encompasses _You are less intelligent than I previously assumed_ and _I admit no such thing_.

"Who, knowing the two of you and your infamous relationship, would ever think to look for Bones in a Vulcan's quarters?"

"It is _most_ illogical."

"You've already said that, Spock."

Spock stops, turns on Kirk. "Admiral, if you must insist on insulting me, I request that you retire to _your_ quarters while I handle Doctor McCoy."

That makes Jim snort, who merely picks up his pace.

By the time they return to Headquarter grounds, Spock has decided that, indeed, either Doctor McCoy has entirely lost his wits (due to Kaus V?) or he is a master strategist, a fact that has somehow eluded Spock over the course of their acquaintance (_friendship_—a word he says in his mind but not with his mouth).

No one _would _think to look for him in Spock's quarters—especially not Spock or Jim. They have been chasing leads away from Starfleet—and, really, Spock has been little place else besides Jim's or wherever Jim goes. (McCoy knows them well, after all.)

A perfect place to hide; a perfect place to access Starfleet data (Spock has a high security clearance, as a Vulcan ambassador's son) without suspicion.

If Spock admires Doctor McCoy (even the slightest bit), his admiration may have just increased tenfold.

* * *

"Commodore, I have a—Captain that wishes to speak with you, Sir."

The man waves off the cadet. "Can't you see I am in the middle of dinner? Who is foolish enough to interrupt my meal?"

The cadet moves closer, eyes wide, and whispers in his ear. "It's a Valissan. Sir."

The Commodore pauses, fork midway to his mouth (the peas drop back onto the plate). His hand shakes a little (if the young officer notices, he politely makes no comment).

"Oh. Oh, yes, put him through." He hastily grabs a napkin, thinking a million questions in the span of a few seconds. _Should I contact Mr. Weston? What do they want? Do they know I'm involved? Oh God, why me?_ He faces the comm unit on his desk, rubs a hand down his front and opens the link.

"Commodore, at last we meet! I have heard such—pleasant—things about you."

The Valissan grins terrifyingly, displaying double rows of sharp teeth. The pirate is suave, no doubt, but just as rough-looking as the rest of his species.

"I d-don't believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Captain—"

"Captain Noreh, at your service." He bows a little (as best he can seated). "Captain of this fine vessel, as you can see." He swivels around in his chair, gesturing with (_Lord, is that a K-2 blaster?_) in wide sweeps.

"Captain Noreh, you are aware that as a Starfleet officer I am required to alert the authorities—"

"Would you?" the Valissan leans forward, intent. "Would you be so _unkind_ when I have displayed only goodwill to your—" he says a word the Commodore would bet his eye-teeth is rude "race."

"Sir, I know of your… activities, and certainly they are not beneficial to the Federation."

The Captain loses his smile (and his humor). "The Federation is a faction of hungry little _maggots_ who feed on the wealth of our galaxy and DO NOT SHARE. But no matter," he waves a negligent hand. "You—and your associates—will certainly be willing to share with me."

"Whatever it is that you are implying—"

"I do not imply. I know." There is a pause. He says something unintelligible to a person off-screen. "I have recently come into a trifle of information about this tragic little colony called Kaus V."

The Commodore is unable to keep the stammer out of his voice. (He's nervous, so very nervous.) "K-Kaus V..."

"You see, we picked up a… passenger some weeks ago. He was distraught—yes, I believe that is the word—and we were able to convince him to share his woes with us. You have something of great interest to me, Commodore."

"You are mistaken—"

"NO!" The Valissan slams his hand down on his armrest. "Do not lie to me, you—" (The Commodore needs no translation.) "I _will_ get what I want. Imagine, with this warfare—" He breaks off as if he has said too much. "You will receive a packet that designates a time and place for our meeting."

"And if I refuse?"

"Do not flatter yourself. I have little use for you. Give it to your boss. He will follow the instructions or I may be very careless with my words—talk to the wrong people, you understand."

Captain Noreh (of the Valissan raider that carried McCoy, without doubt now) says to the Commodore, "I look forward to our negotiations." He cuts the transmission.

The Commodore slumps over his desk and is sure it's hysterical laughter caught in his throat.

* * *

Jim stays outside the open door (to the right—silent and tense), motions Spock forward. The air is cooler than Spock likes it, and the room is dark. "Lights, 75%" he commands.

Then the bathroom door slides open and McCoy steps through, stops. "Ah Hell," he says. "You just couldn't have given me ten more minutes, could you? You blasted Vulcan!"

"A strange remark, Doctor, considering that it is _you_ who are the intruder."

McCoy makes no reply, only snaps up his shirt and retreats back to the bathroom. Spock eyes the (not-fresh) marks on McCoy's back, calculatingly. There is the distinctive _snick_ of the lock engaging from the other side.

Jim remarks out of the shadowy doorway. "He's not as… upset as I imagined he would be."

Spock merely raises an eyebrow at Kirk. "You would have preferred otherwise?"

"God no!" he exclaims. "Now we just have to get him out of there and in here."

"And willing to converse with us."

Jim considers that glumly. "Damn."

* * *

**Note: The plot thickens. :) Also, I may just dedicate Chapter Six solely to the trio. They are in desperate need of some words with one another. Does this work for you guys? **


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Doctor McCoy, open this door! As your superior—"

"I do not believe that is a wise course of action."

"Well, you've refused to do your share!"

"The amount of force necessary to 'bend it a little' would severely damage Starfleet property—"

"Screw that argument, Spock. How many times have we 'had an incident' with Starfleet property?"

"Too many, Admiral."

"It's Jim. Call—me—Jim!"

"Venting your dissatisfaction, due to Doctor McCoy's refusal to comply, on other persons is not becoming of an Admiral. Jim."

A muffled voice through the door yells, "For God's sake, can't I have a little peace and quiet! I can't stitch with—" There's a curse and some banging noises inside the bathroom.

"Bones! Bones? Are you hurt? Open this door, NOW!" Jim goes back to pounding his fist on metal.

Spock would sigh if Vulcans did such things. He's saved from the urge by the _beep_ that indicates a visitor. He turns, raises his eyebrow. Jim pauses with his fist mid-air, and looks in the direction of Mr. Spock's gaze.

"Answer it," he says.

Spock is already moving. The door to his quarters slides back to reveal Christine Chapel. She gives him a sweet smile and says (quite enthusiastically), "Why, Mr. Spock!" She grabs his shoulder, bends his upper body into the hallway and pats his cheek with her other hand. "Sorry I'm so late, darling. You know how busy things get at the clinic."

Spock is unable to respond—which becomes unnecessary because Chapel quickly pushes him back inside and thumbs the door closed with a jab. (Jim's left the bathroom door in lieu of the drama.) Then she releases Spock and steps out of his personal space.

"I'm truly sorry about that, Spock. I've been hounded by Security all day." She explains as she unstraps a bag and sets it down on the table. "I can't believe my luck—that you opened that door! If it'd been Len…" she trails off, glances around with a frown growing between her eyes.

"Leonard?" she calls.

"Here!" The bathroom door unlocks and McCoy pokes his head out. "You got the supplies?"

"Of course." She pats her bag. "You owe me for this, Dr. McCoy, you really do."

"Well, _Dr._ Chapel, I'll see to it that you get paid for your efforts. Now get in here! I need your help!"

Jim is following in such close proximity to Christine that they both have to practically squeeze through the threshold together. "Captain, please! I need some room to work."

"Sorry," he apologizes somewhat sheepishly before his expression transforms into a grim visage at the sight of McCoy. "Bones—" He breaks off his next words, instead reaches out to support McCoy who is leaning precariously against the sink. "My God, Bones, what happened to you?"

"Would you believe me if I said space pirates?" He lets Jim manhandle him onto the toilet seat. (McCoy looks too haggard and grey.)

"Are you joking?" Kirk asks almost hopefully.

"No, Jim. Wish I was."

"Gentlemen, the chit-chat can wait," Dr. Chapel says in her _you'd better not give me trouble, I've got a large hypospray_ voice. "I need to take a look at Leonard's injuries."

Jim reluctantly releases McCoy and steps away. Spock is close at his back, watchful.

"Christine, I can tell ya what's the matter. Sweep the tricorder over here," he gestures to an area on his left side, "and around my back. Should be a couple of bruised ribs, healing dermal lacerations. No infection—I had some antibiotics with me—"

Chapel's sharp intake of breath when she gets to his back speaks volumes. McCoy meets her eyes, shakes his head with _later_. For a moment, she doesn't look like she will accept that—until she turns around to place the tricorder back into its case, snaps it closed (with a bit of force).

She looks at Jim and Spock (_it's always them, when Leonard's hurt_) and says, "Please wait for us in the other room."

Jim might have spoken, but Spock simply seems to agree and gives Kirk an unreadable look (except between them). They exit without protest. They have learned when to bend to Chapel's requests—and when to fight. (Today is not one of those times.)

An half-hour later, McCoy comes out into the living area, shirt on (all evidence covered) and gently takes a seat in the nearest chair. Jim looks torn between questioning McCoy and questioning Christine. He relents in neither case, but tosses out, "Which one of you wants to begin?"

McCoy coughs lightly into his hand. "I doubt either of us has much to say."

"Speak for yourself, Leonard." Christine's voice is sharper than usual. "Captain—Admiral," Jim waves off her correction, "here are the medications Leonard needs to take twice daily." She hands a surprised Jim a case of hyposprays. "If he's in pain—and when Leonard says he's fine, you can be rest assured that he hurts—you may up the dose to three."

She smiles at both Spock and Jim. "I think you two have dealt with Doctor McCoy enough to know how to handle his responses properly."

She ignores McCoy's "_Christine!_" and heads for the door. "He's in your hands now." She stops, looks over her shoulder at them, her face almost grave. "Take good care of him." To McCoy, "Leonard, lie down and get some rest. You've been on those stimulants much too long. Comm me if you need me."

And with those parting words, she leaves the trio alone. One injured—harried for time, against danger; two newly heart-healed but still lost; all three stubbornly incomplete.

* * *

Kirk sits on the armrest of another chair, arms folded across his chest. "First Scotty; now Christine. Who else is in on your plans? Sulu?"

McCoy _hmphs_. "Why, actually _yes_, Admiral. Sulu and Chekov are running an errand for me as we speak."

"Damn you, McCoy, this isn't a game!"

"Not a game, Jim?" McCoy's voice is strangled with something (budding anger). "Not a game? I think I know better than you—than EITHER of you—that this is NOT a game!" McCoy grabs the arm of his chair to rise, when Spock steps forward—places a hand on his shoulder (not quite pressing). McCoy sits back. His face goes blank (unnerving for Bones). He drawls almost carelessly, "Well, I certainly didn't bring 'em into this mess 'cause I felt like sharing the misery, Jim-boy. I needed their help."

"But not mine, not Spock's obviously. Why, Bones?"

He breathes in-out, says nothing.

"Are we not worth a call?" Jim gets up, paces two steps and turns about with the words, "Are we no longer a concern to you, Doctor McCoy?"

"You're not reliable enough," McCoy bites out and it's like a slap to the face.

Jim's anger is pushed aside by a hard punch of hurt. (He doesn't quite stagger.) It's Spock who no longer remains still, as he has been since McCoy and Kirk began raking into each other; it's Spock who says, "Enough."

He turns hard eyes on the doctor. "Leonard," his voice is flat (it makes Bones shiver). "You will explain that statement."

McCoy gets up, unaided, and walks stiffly from them. Minutes pass, his back—stooped shoulders half in shadow—rigid. Finally, he speaks.

"You left me."

He turns around, and it is Leonard they see—the man with too much heart, too vulnerable in his caring. Jim realizes, then, that there is pain in Bones. An old (but new) pain and—

_How come I've never noticed? How could I not see it?_

There is regret in the "Bones" that leaves his mouth. _What did I do to you?_

"You left me, Jim, for a new life, for the wonder of the Admiralty." Leonard faces the Vulcan (who watches out of those dark, dark eyes). "You left me, Spock, for your Vulcan convention. " McCoy laughs, roughly. "Imagine, my emotion a detriment to your well-being."

"I stated that I believed Kolinhar to be a solution to my search for wisdom."

"A wisdom we mere Humans do not possess, huh? Did we mean nothing to you, after all those years?"

Spock's consideration is serious. He then shifts forward, unclasps his hands and offers them, palm-up, to McCoy. Leonard only stares at them, taken aback. Spock says, "I made an error. My destiny lies on this path—the one that I have been walking since the Enterprise gained you and the Captain."

He takes a step forward; Bones takes a step back.

"I will value any wisdom that you grant, Leonard. Will you accept my offer in return?"

The doctor chokes out, "Spock—I don't—I don't understand what you're saying. Please,_ please_ just put your hands down, okay!" (_I don't know if I can hope again_.)

Spock acquiesces but when keeps his intense gaze on Leonard. His eyes say _For you, freely given_. The doctor brings a hand to his face. (He is weary now.)

Jim assesses the two people he knows better than himself. "We made a mistake, Bones—a mistake we regret dearly. But you wouldn't even stay in the same room to talk to us after V'Ger…"

Leonard replies with a clinical detachment. "I hurt you that way, didn't I? I wanted to. And it was the only means to protect myself too_." From falling into the same old trap_, he doesn't need to voice that aloud. Jim and Spock understand his meaning.

"How can we fix this if you won't give us a chance? Don't you want what we had!" Jim half-turns to Spock who nods his agreement.

McCoy leans against the wall. "I am not sure that we can be fixed, Jim, my boy. And don't give me that spiel about no-win scenarios. We both know what this is—" he gestures between the three of them. "As far from 'a win' as could be."

Kirk lowers his brows at that statement. "You're wrong—"

The doctor cuts him off. "Look, rehashing our mistakes isn't going to help. It's done—you made your choices." McCoy tightens his jaw. "You got your freedom. Now give me mine."

Jim does not see the hard-lines in McCoy's face but rather the trembling in his hands. And Jim Kirk knows instinctively how to succeed. He never gives Leonard time to retreat, but takes him by the shoulders with an iron-gentle grip.

"Bones, you'll never get away from us. Don't you understand?" He shakes the man (_Stop, Jim!_). "WE WON'T LET YOU GO."

Leonard deflates (he's just too tired to continue on) with a terrible grace; he slumps into Jim's arms, who pulls the man against his chest, winds a hand into his hair. Whispering, "I am sorry, Bones. I'm so sorry, and I promise. _We promise._"

Leonard says into his uniform, "Don't make promises you can't live up to, Jimmy."

"I only make the ones I plan to do my best to keep."

Leonard knows that well. (It's one of the things he loves.) _But fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…_

He makes little complaint when Jim gently suggests that he rest as Chapel instructed. "It's okay, Bones. Take the bed, we won't bother you."

"You're not the doctor, here, Jim," Leonard says almost absently as he lets himself be tucked under a blanket. (His eyes are heavy.) "When I need sleep, I'll sleep…" his voice barely finishes that sentence. He wants to say _Don't go_ and _It hurts so bad. You hurt me so bad._

But there will be time later to build up those walls. He needs strong defenses, after all, if he is going to survive.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Leonard H. McCoy, we hereby place you under arrest for failure to inform your superiors of your status and unlawful allegations against Starfleet Command and the Federation as a whole."

Bones silently accepts these words, allowing the Security detail to surround him (phasers drawn)—lock his arms behind his back. It's Jim who protests vehemently, who takes a bite out of the officer reading the list of charges. (_"—on whose authority!"_)

Leonard tries to calm Kirk down, says "Jim" in such a way that has the man holding onto his shoulders (the frantic squeezing could almost be painful) telling Leonard that _it's okay,_ _I'll go straight to the Admiralty, I'll fix this_. McCoy merely smiles (a bit sadly) at him.

"I'll be fine, Jim. It's you I'm worried about. Don't dig yourself a hole; they'll bury you in it." He turns his head, looks deliberately at the stoic Vulcan in the doorway. "Spock, ya'll need to go to Uhura's. But take Scotty with you. Understand? _First_ Scotty and _then_ Uhura's."

"Understood, Doctor."

Jim and Spock watch as McCoy is led away.

* * *

"You can't be serious? Put McCoy on TRIAL?" Jim is braced against the table and spearing his colleagues with a fire burning in his eyes.

One of the committee speaks. "Admiral Kirk, we cannot allow a man—any man, even one of the Doctor's caliber—to flagrantly slander and incite chaos as he sees fit."

"He is courageous enough to come forward about a crime committed against innocent people!"

"Really? Who knows how this… incident occurred?" Admiral Johnson leans in, folds his hands nonchalantly. "Perhaps your beloved Doctor was so incensed when we ordered him to evacuate Kaus V that he became mentally unhinged..."

Kirk almost gapes at the absurdity of Johnson's implication. "You're insane if—"

Johnson's mouth pinches. "Watch yourself, Kirk. Not all persons present are willing to put up with your blatant disregard for our Command."

"In case you've forgotten," Kirk practically spits, "I am _a member _of Command—an equal member. And I'm telling you—every last one of you—that this is a mistake. I will personally vouch for Doctor McCoy's honor."

Another admiral rises from his seat, approaches Jim with placating hands. "Now, Jim—can I call you that?" He smiles a little. "We understand that Doctor McCoy is an old friend of yours, but as Admirals we all have a duty to remain objective. He has broken numerous regulations—"

"Because he had no other choice! He's being hunted!"

"As I was saying, we are not here to persecute Doctor McCoy. Indeed, given his prestigious career in Starfleet Medical, we are being quite lenient with the charges." _And will also be so with the sentencing_ goes unsaid but understood.

Jim is not pacified in the slightest. He pulls away from the group (who surround him on all sides, like enemies) and finds room to move (to take a fighting stance). "So you won't persecute, but you'll _prosecute_. I just want to be clear on our stance." He takes a quick turn, pacing like a lion. "What about an investigation into McCoy's claim?"

"Yes, there is—currently—an on-going investigation into the deaths of the Starfleet personnel. However, we have found precious little information to support a case for 'murder,' Kirk. As Doctor McCoy is the only survivor—surely you understand our position? We cannot give credence to his accusations without evidence—which he has not come forward to provide."

"Of course he hasn't. If they were killed—for whatever reason—and Bones—" Kirk corrects himself (Johnson smiles), "—_Doctor_ McCoy has proof of the crime, then his life is at stake from those who would silence him."

"We are aware of the 'what-if's' and certainly we will ensure his safety should he prove innocent _and correct_ about the incident. Until that time, we will hold Leonard McCoy in our custody, future measures to be taken accordingly.

Jim clenches a fist, realizing that he cannot fight them this way. The brass is firm (and sly) when necessary, and he knows that they are desperate too to assuage the rioting public with any answer possible (the _only_ possible—a semi-truth) to soften the fall-out.

He snaps a quick salute, and they let him go.

* * *

Jim meets Spock and Scotty at the Uhura's—which is apparently the latest gathering place for all Enterprise crewmen, as Sulu and Chekov are already seated in her kitchen. They salute the Captain as he walks in, and watch him (awaiting orders).

"McCoy must have had a reason to bring us all together."

Uhura agrees. "I believe so, Captain. When I met McCoy earlier—"

"You too?" Kirk asks drily. Spock and he share a look that says, _McCoy has made the rounds, hasn't he?_

"Yes. He came later in the evening after you dropped Joanna off."

Jim suddenly remembers Joanna, looks around.

"She's been sent off-planet, at McCoy's insistence." Everyone nods at this. (Better that way—she's so young.)

Uhura picks up a package. "Doctor McCoy left this with me, with the instructions that it was NOT to be opened until Mr. Scott was present."

"Interesting," Spock says. "The Doctor also stressed this clause upon our last meeting."

Scotty adds, when each person turns to look at him, "Well, I dinnae hae a clue. I was jus' there ta work the transporters."

"Well, we have Mr. Scott present." Kirk motions for Uhura to open the package.

She does so and removes a disk (the only content). She turns it over in her hand—seeing no title or any indication of what it bears. So she walks over to her computer console and inserts it.

The screen is hazy, almost jammed with nonsense, except for certain Standard words which scroll across the screen. _Retinal identification required: Comm. Montgomery Scott._

"So that's why he made me do that eye-test…" Scotty muses, slightly appreciative of the good Doctor's ingenuity.

"Well, Scotty, go on!" Uhura urges. He leans in for the retinal scan, the computer grants access, and the screen unscrambles to a normal fuzz. It begins to play.

They have an inside view of an unidentified ship—obviously the bridge—and there is chatter in the background. Uhura cocks an ear, listens. She is about to speak when Bones appears from the side and takes a seat (full-frontal). His face is pale, stubble-lined, but his eyes are a vivid, sharp blue. He has on the strangest clothes his friends have ever seen him in—all black, a leather vest roughly patched in places, and a large phaser rifle strapped across his chest. The man taps an impatient finger on a barely visible console before leaning back from the screen and fixing hard eyes on his viewers.

"If ya'll are watching this, then I've been arrested and we're on our way to the show-down. Sulu, Chekov—good work. Starfleet obviously bought your bit hook-line-and-sinker. I bet they promised you early promotion for turning me in." McCoy grins briefly, then sobers. "You've got that box with you—open it now."

Everyone turns to stare at the two wide-eyed men. Sulu reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small metal box.

"Depress the tabs on the sides to release the catch."

Sulu does so, peers inside and takes out a small mechanical device. "What you are holding is a subband-signal scrambler. This will block all security frequencies within approximately a 9-meter radius. You'll need that when you break me outta whatever brig I'm stuck in." McCoy smiles crookedly. "Do it soon. We've got a ship to catch. I'll leave the particulars up to you—Spock, don't go quoting regulations either. By the time this conversation is done, you will have plenty of legitimate reasons to go along with my little drama." A shadow passes over Bones' face, but he continues on.

"As you can see, I am not on Kaus V, nor on the shuttle of scientists that exploded. This is a Valissan raider and that man—" McCoy swivels to the right and points at the center figure who grins wolfishly and waves, "—is its Captain. They were in the middle of a convenient… investigation on Kaus V when I needed a lift."

McCoy leans forward, whispers quite loudly, "Apparently it's not below them to pick up booty from medical freighters for the dying."

In the background there is a thump and "I heard that, Doctor! How callous, to malign your rescuers!"

"It ain't rescue if you torture the passenger first!" McCoy shoots back. The Captain comes into view, blocking the top portion of the screen as he leans over McCoy and flashes his rows of teeth. "A misunderstanding, I assure you. We're great friends now." He pats the Doctor's shoulder before barking orders to someone and moving off.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "I've come to the conclusion that Valissans are the craziest, most strangely genteel pirates this side of the galaxy." McCoy looks down at himself. "And they really love leather."

"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the pirate ship. I explained the situation on Kaus V and we concocted a plan. Well, it's more like a trap—but I'm not mincing words with these fellas."

McCoy pauses here, narrows his eyes over some kind of consideration. "I suppose I ought to forgo those plan details for now—wouldn't want ya'll to skip the jailbreak and try to handle things yourselves."

Uhura chuckles a little. She says quietly, "He truly knows us, doesn't he?"

"Kaus V." Just by the seriousness of McCoy's expression, each person in the room sits up with attention. "You are aware that I volunteered my services to help the plague research. Well, I—and a team of very hard-working _honest _people—" His eyes briefly shine (_they're so blue_) before taking a deep breath. "—discovered an anomaly in the cell cultures taken from several infected Kausians. We identified a bacterium from the Exo VI planet as the primary cause, not indigenous to the colony (obviously) but planted there."

Spock murmurs "Fascinating."

"Spock's gonna think this is fascinating—" Spock raises his eyebrow in surprise "—but it's also deadly. I'm enclosing the data from our research on this disk. Don't worry, I've got several backups in weird places—because the rest of the evidence was destroyed when the shuttle exploded."

"It wasn't a malfunction—or whatever Starfleet is claiming. Ya'll know how I feel about shuttle transport, but even I am aware of the low probability that an entire shuttle detonates from a _malfunction_." Spock says something about a higher risk of shuttle-crashing or oxygen depletion. "Fact is, it _was_ a bomb on that shuttle. I found it sitting beside the pilot's chair—_so God-damned lucky it didn't explode when my boot knocked it_. But even that wasn't what killed my team."

Several people take deep breaths, make a little noise, shift.

"They were dead before they were put on that shuttlecraft. I know, 'cause I watched their bodies being loaded. Hell, I _found_ their bodies beforehand in one of our laboratories—" McCoy's elbow comes down hard on the console as he runs a hand roughly through his hair. "—fucking piled up like war casualties about to be pitched into a ditch. I just—I don't—"

There is a minute of silence while he collects himself, his words. There is horror leaking off of him.

"—I have no clue how I managed to dodge those soldiers—there were six of 'em—but regardless, I did and I made it off that colony with some highly incriminating evidence here—" he holds up a disk, "—and here." He points to his head. "That makes me Target Numero Uno."

"The long and short of it is this: I was the senior research officer on Kaus V, and I was responsible for those under my supervision. So by rights, I am still responsible for giving 'em justice. I plan to do that, and more. Whoever these bastards are, they're experimenting on innocent people, and I'll bet you a case of Romulan ale that this 'disease' of theirs is biological warfare in preparation. They have to be stopped, and they deserve to pay for their crimes. I'm just going to need help." He smiles (softly, perhaps in remembrance).

"I need _your _help, my friends. I can't promise that this won't be dangerous—to your careers or your lives—but we're used to that risk, aren't we? If you don't want to get involved, I understand. Hell, I'd have to think twice if I were on the other side of this request…"

No one believes that statement for a minute. Leonard is loyal—and too caring—to let a friend face danger alone. He's proven it enough times.

"…but I hope that you'll stand with me. McCoy, out."

The screen goes blank.

There are numerous questions in everyone's eyes, but no one voices them. Instead, they turn to one another, observing faces, until Scotty breaks the silence. "Well, how're we gonna pull off this jailbreak, laddies?"

They begin making plans of their own.

* * *

Chekov pokes his head through the melted, gaping hole in the side of the brig. "_Psst_… Doctor! Doctor McCoy!" he addresses the coughing blob.

It says, "Sweet Jesus, Chekov! Was the smoke necessary?"

"I saw it in an old film vhen I vas a boy!"

"Damn…" a hand reaches for Chekov who immediately grabs it and pulls McCoy outside. "Remind me to get you lessons in new-age espionage. What about the guards?"

"Sulu handled them, Sir. Quite vell, might I add!"

McCoy lets himself be led down the hall, all the while listening to "Did you know that smoke bomb vas invented in Russia?" They manage to make it down three floors of the Security compound before red lights start flashing ominously. With multiple curses (a mix of vulgar Southern and Russian), they have to run the rest of the way and shimmy through some side vents before coming level with the rest of the gang.

Doctor McCoy takes them in (Kirk, Spock, Sulu, and Chekov). Kirk says, "What about this ship we're catching, Bones?"

Leonard smiles. "Stealing, Jim. We're stealing a ship."

Chekov mutters _About time_; Sulu just re-attaches his katana to his belt. Spock looks intrigued (despite his Vulcan dignity). It's Kirk who gapes. "Bones, we can't—"

"Hell, yes we can! And we ain't taking just _any_ starship, Jim. We're commandeering the Enterprise."

Chekov gets on the comm to Scotty (who'll be ecstatic; Uhura will have to remind him to engage the transporters). Spock alerts those present that the scrambler will only hold for a few more minutes.

McCoy slips an arm around Jim's shoulders. "This one's gonna count. You want to back out now, _Captain_?"

Jim flashes the patented hundred-watt Kirk-grin. "I'm in, Bones."

They all dissolve in whirl of blue lights.

* * *

Mr. Weston gives no indication of his mood as he boards his private vessel. The Commodore is right behind him, sweating profusely. Heger is already inside, preparing his weapons.

They are en-route to meet Captain Noreh. Six hours of space travel and plenty of time to decide how to handle the Valissans. Weston does not appreciate being demanded of, particularly by those who have too little coin to pay for their desires. However, he may be able to turn this situation to his advantage. If there is more than one party interested in the product, the profit soars.

Such opportune timing that _someone_ has leaked a rumor of this 'negotiation' to the Orions.

He knows precisely how little love the Valissans have for the Orions. Two pirate crews and extremely high stakes. It's his kind of game. And Heger has prepared a surprise for the winner of this (imminent) battle.

* * *

Elsewhere, a reunited Enterprise crew has successfully boarded their starship and accidently evacuated all other personnel by tripping a (fake) biohazard alarm.

By the time Starbase security realizes that a starship is departing off-schedule, their systems are jammed and the port doors are wide open.

The Enterprise slips its leash and is gone before anyone has sense enough to patch a call through to Starfleet Command. Inside, Kirk swivels in his Captain's chair and looks a little too satisfied for a man committed to a desk job. Bones stands with him, slightly behind and to the left. The others man the proper stations.

All seems right in the galaxy; all seems possible.

Despite the fact that the Enterprise sets a course for peril.

* * *

**Note: Okay, two chapters left and this story is completed! Some questions still remain unanswered, but I promise that they will be soon. Also, it must be obvious how this drama plays out (at least it is to this author), so I humbly request that we allow everyone to come to their own conclusions-no spoilers please!**

**Just sit back and enjoy the last of the ride. It won't be long now! Also read and review. It feeds the creative process. :) **


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Are you going to explain now, Bones?"

McCoy leans against the railing, eyes fixed on the stars whizzing by on the bridge screen. He sighs. "I suppose I don't have a choice?"

"No."

"Sulu, can you get us to the end of the solar system? There should be a disk on the underside of your console."

Sulu feels around and locates it.

McCoy smiles. "I asked Scotty to hide it there when he got the chance. It contains the coordinates we need to be at in about six hours."

Chekov says, "If we use warp four, we can make it there in five hours."

McCoy looks to Jim. "The sooner the better, Jim." Jim nods his assent to Chekov and Sulu.

Spock stands between Kirk and McCoy. "Perhaps you can start, Doctor, by explaining what we will encounter at these coordinates."

McCoy scowls at Spock. "I was gettin' to that, you emotionless computer! Vulcans are so impatient for answers."

"That is an inaccurate assessment. Vulcans do not feel impatience."

"Yeah, yeah. Vulcan don't _feel anything_, right, Spock? Well, I've—"

"Stop!" Jim wonders why he is always the designated mediator between them. Uhura has her back turned (to muffle her laughs), and Chekov is grinning from ear-to-ear. Sulu might be muttering, "Some things never change."

(He's mediator because no one else is dumb enough to get involved.)

McCoy (and Spock) almost seems disappointed when he can't finish the verbal spar. _There's always later._

"If everything goes smoothly, the Valissans have contacted the Starfleet officer—Commodore Gord was his name—that attempted to pack us off Kaus V."

Spock asks, "You believe this Commodore to be the one who placed the bomb aboard the shuttle?"

"No, Spock, I'm pretty sure he didn't know a thing about it by his expression when it exploded—I was watching from a distance. But he _was _with the man who was in charge of the sabotage—and the murder of my friends. In fact, by the looks of things, I'd say Gord knew that man fairly well. We took a chance on sending our 'offer' to his table."

Uhura interrupts, "Len, how did you get off that shuttle before it exploded?"

Bones' mouth twitches. "Why, Uhura darlin', you are implying that I don't have super powers?"

Jim barks out a laugh. "Bones, you are many things… but I have yet to see you beam yourself from one place to the next."

_Spoiling a man's fun_, the doctor doesn't say. Instead, "All those midnight drinking sessions with Scotty really paid off. He rambles on about the most useful things—_used to think it was non-sense, now I'm re-evaluating that_—when he's three sheets to the wind. I managed to disengage the auto-pilot by memory alone!" McCoy grins triumphantly.

"It's a matter of depressing three buttons, Doctor."

McCoy's scowl returns. "Well, I ain't a God-damned pilot, Spock! It's a miracle I remembered which three to press, let alone in the right order." He straightens his tunic with a _hmph_. "I snuck off the shuttle when a fella came aboard to investigate. The rest were outside of the launching dock, twiddling their thumbs. I hide behind a pallet of cargo units 'fore I could get away unseen."

He waves a hand at everyone. "But that's history. What's important is that we had a place to start—with the Commodore. Captain Noreh—"

"—who?" interrupts Chekov.

"The Valissan space pirate," Sulu whispers.

"—Captain _Noreh_ would contact Gord and demand a prototype of the experiment on Kaus V. Good old-fashioned blackmail. They will rendezvous for the exchange on that mining asteroid that shut down operation a while back."

Jim takes up the explanation. "So we interrupt and round up all the bad-guys."

"More or less."

"Are the Valissans bad-guys too?" Chekov wants to know.

McCoy snorts, unconsciously rubs at his back. "Hell yes. But we made a deal—they help me catch these Federation terrorists and I'll forgive them their debt."

This makes Spock's eyebrow shoot up. "Debt, Doctor McCoy?"

"Captain Noreh's son—Charon—was suffering from an illness I had the means to cure." _That's why they were so desperate for medical supplies. _"And I did, on two conditions: one, they stop torturing me for no good God-damned reason; and two, they help me catch the bastards that butchered Joy."

No one asks about Joy because it is apparent that McCoy won't willingly say any more about her. (Spock files it away for further investigation.)

* * *

They stabilize their position on the far side of Pluto, close to the asteroid base but with enough distance to defy detection by any vessels orbiting the asteroid. Currently, the asteroid base is functional—though abandoned—as legalities between two warring factions have halted the mining. It's a perfect place for a clandestine meeting of parties—and a deal that can be made under Federation noses.

"We have one hour, two minutes, and thirty-nine seconds before the appointed time, Captain."

"Good. Scotty," Kirk hits the Engineering call button on his chair, "meet us in the transporter room." There's a soft _Aye, Captain_ and Kirk is immediately heading for the turbolift.

Bones stops him with a hand to Kirk's chest. "Jim, you think it's a good idea for so many of us to go down there?"

Kirk simply looks at McCoy. _How do you plan to stop me?_

"I'm just saying, Jim, that this is mine to do. If anything goes wrong…"

"We face it together, Bones. Your problem is _our_ problem." Jim squeezes McCoy's shoulder. "Didn't I tell you that we won't let you go," he says a little more quietly.

(McCoy doesn't quite blush.) He sighs. "Okay." Turns to Spock. "I suppose you're going to?"

"Affirmative, Doctor."

"_Damned green-blooded hobgoblin._" But McCoy says it almost good-naturedly as he stands alongside Spock, who merely raises an eyebrow in response.

Kirk gives the rest of the crew (Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu) a sharp look. "I'll spare you the regular speech before a mission—" This earns some chuckles. "But I will say this… If we're lucky, our only problem will be fitting all the perpetrators in the brig. If not… keep your eyes open and your wits about you." He smiles. "End of speech. Sulu, you've got the conn. Take her home if necessary."

The Captain turns and marches to the lift, Spock and Bones on his heels.

Uhura whispers _Good luck_.

* * *

Heger releases the vessel into orbit around the small asteroid. He signals another man to take his place at the controls. He approaches Weston. "Sir, we have arrived."

"Any sign of the Valissans?"

"Yes, Sir. We detect their ship in the area. Shall I hail them?"

"Hold off. What about our other… friends?"

"Not yet."

Weston rubs his chin his forefinger. The Commodore, who has been chattering excitably (nervously) for the last few hours has fallen silent at Heger's approach. "Commodore, go down to the surface. Make sure the perimeters are secure."

"M-Me? But I—"

"DO IT! I've had just about enough of your sniveling. God, the people Starfleet will commission—" Weston sneers. "If you hadn't let McCoy refuse to board the shuttle, he'd be dead like we planned!"

"You—you killed all those innocent people!"

Weston laughs. "And the contagion wasn't killing Kausians? My poor stupid Gord, you are as guilty as I am in this affair. Now get down to that asteroid!"

* * *

On the Enterprise bridge, a small screen starts to flash the words "Unknown vessel… Red-alert recommended."

Sulu punches in a few commands, pulls up the data with a sinking stomach. "We have another ship approaching from the port-side, around the moon of Pluto." He pauses, curses then. "It's another raider!" He magnifies the view on the bridge screen. Uhura's fingers are already flying across the console, trying to patch through the Captain, Spock, or McCoy. Chekov turns to Sulu, says, "That's Orion, Sulu; I think trouble just found us!"

* * *

Kirk and McCoy are crouched side-by-side behind the opening of a mining shaft not far off from the designated meeting place. Spock hangs back in the distance, making a visual sweep of the area. It's early yet, and they silently wait (together) for what the future holds.

Spock pauses at the quiet _beep_ from the communicator on his belt. He flips it open, adjusts the frequency. "Spock to Enterprise. What is it, Commander Uhura?"

"Mr. Spock, an Orion raider is within transport range."

"Can you deduce its intentions?"

"Hostile action has not been taken; their shields remain lowered."

"Understood, Uhura. Spock, out."

Spock kneels next to Kirk and Bones. "Captain, Doctor McCoy, it appears that we have a new opponent entering the game. An Orion raider has arrived."

Leonard's eyebrows fly up. Kirk demands, "Orions? Why?"

"It is possible that they have been… informed of the dealings between the Valissans and this unknown organization."

"Well, there's not a chance the Valissans called 'em in, Jim. They hate Orions. I know—I had to listen to a day-long harangue about inferior Orion pirating skills." McCoy mutters something else about Valissans and too much drink.

"So the _bad_ bad-guys invited a Valissan arch enemy." Jim looks thoughtful. "I've got to say, it's strategically well-planned if you think you are walking into a losing battle. Confuse the enemy with more enemies."

"Indeed, this does seem likely."

Bones looks at both Jim and Spock. "Well, what do we do now? I don't know about you, but this throws a huge wrench into our lure-and-capture plan!"

"Bones, you're sure that you can trust these Valissans?" Kirk makes it a question.

"Hell, you can't trust a criminal—especially when your back's turned—but yeah, I think we understood each other's needs pretty well."

"And now? How they will react?"

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a fortune teller!" McCoy fishes around in his jacket for a minute, pulls out another (awkwardly pieced together) device that looks suspiciously like re-designed Starfleet communicator. "But we can ask 'em directly." He turns it on, fiddles with the setting. "Captain Noreh, McCoy here. You read, over?"

"I read you too well, my friend." The voice is a little garbled (from internal translation) but there's no mistaking the mild humor in that voice. "I hope you have an entertaining explanation for the Orions at my door. I do not like to be double-crossed."

"We're as puzzled as you are, Captain. It had to have been the Commodore and his pals."

There's muttered cursing on the other end. (The sounds are unpleasantly guttural.) "You still require these—" McCoy winces, "—fiends alive? Let us blow their little charter cruiser into space dust! The final revenge—_satisfying destruction of the enemy_—"

"Now, now, Noreh. Calm yourself down. What'd I say about your blood pressure? I don't want 'em dead; I want them exposed, tried, and convicted." McCoy meets Jim's eyes—who nods.

"As you wish. But I have a new condition to our arrangement, Mc Coy. Let me battle those Orion scum!"

_Oh Lord_, Bones mouths. "And you'll still hand over the Commodore's people AND their goods?"

It's easy to picture the Valissan grin that accompanies the words "I am a pirate of Honor. Of course I will."

* * *

Jim relays the command for the Enterprise to stay quiet and keep watch. (_Be at the ready_.)

McCoy has almost given up on this charade working when a figure assembles on the platform.

"Jim! That's him! That's Gord." McCoy points with his phaser. Gord looks about him, walks in a (random) direction all the while talking into his communicator. "Where's the rest of his party?"

Spock points out that Gord is communicating to another person and had someone transport him to the asteroid.

"Right, there must be someone circling the asteroid, Bones. But I've got this feeling—"

McCoy meets his eyes. "They've sent him down like a lamb to the slaughter?"

Kirk nods. He narrows his eyes at Gord, takes in the nervous amble and the fidget of his free hand. "I think he knows it too."

* * *

"Sir, Commodore Gord reports that he is alone on the asteroid."

Before Weston can reply, a signal goes off and Heger checks the console. "Incoming transmission."

"Put it on screen."

Captain Noreh grins back at them. "So you're the mastermind behind my new toy. Well-met. May I ask why you've only sent one man down to meet us?"

"May I ask why you've sent none?" Weston retorts, steepling his fingers.

"Ah, a quick one. I like that. You see, my good Sir, I am not a very trusting man. I would prefer that we beam down simultaneously. You understand—to prevent any… mishaps."

Weston almost smiles. "I assure you, this space craft is hardly an adequate weapon of war, Captain. We could no more blast that asteroid than a flea off of a dog."

Captain laughs heartily, thumping his fist on the armrest of his chair. "I like you. You are a smart one. In fact, so smart that you have invited some friends to our party, no?"

Weston stiffens his fingers. "I am sure that you can appreciate my position. I do not like being blackmailed. It seemed more… suitable to treat this like a business proposition—you must agree—and invite competitors."

"Orions are not competitors to a Valissan!" The Captain's face clouds over (it's a little frightening). "They are the 'fleas' of pirate society!"

"My pardon." Weston does smile now.

"I will not have THEM here! Contact those mongrels—tell them to leave, or I will destroy you both!"

"I doubt that very much. For one, you would not acquire this 'new toy' as you so lovingly call it. And two, I am above all an entrepreneur, Noreh. I can hardly dictate action to potential clients, now can I?"

Captain Noreh scowls. "I hope you do contact them. If you do not, I will engage in battle. And then once I have obliterated the Orions, I will come for _you_." He cuts communications.

Weston signals Heger to patch a line through to the Orions.

"My friends, welcome. I suppose you are ready to talk business, yes?'

"I do not see any Valissans with you. Where are the Valissans?"

Weston frowns. "Just a moment." He leans over to Heger. "Aren't the Valissans in detection range of the Orion ship?"

Heger replies, "They should be."

Weston thinks for a moment, then turns back to the comm screen. "The Valissans are on the asteroid. I will beam down shortly to meet with them. Would you care to join us?"

The Orion Captain stares at Weston (as if he can see through the Human). "Yes. But we will be armed."

"Fine," the man agrees. Once the Orions are off-screen, he says, "Open a line back to Noreh."

The Valissan Captain is still scowling. Weston is short and to-the-point. "The Orions and myself will be on the asteroid. See you there." He gestures for Heger to close the comm link.

"What now, Sir?"

"Now we wait."

* * *

_Oh shit_, McCoy thinks as a group of Orions beam down and not one minute later Captain Noreh and his band show up. _This is bad._

Gord looks scared shitless as the two pirate clans immediately draw weapons and start tossing insults and phaser blasts at each other. Everyone is so busy fighting (and crawling away, like Gord) that no one notices a little blue swirl that signifies an incoming beam. Left behind is a small metal box.

One McCoy remembers too well.

"Shit!" he curses and dives into the fray. Jim is after him with a yell, and Spock not far behind. McCoy latches onto Commodore Gord (who's so pale, he practically faints at the sight of Doctor McCoy) and shoves him at the nearest person—who happens to be Spock.

"Go back! Get him back on the Enterprise. It's a bomb!" he yells. Then he's off against, running towards Noreh who is now arm-locked with the Orion leader.

McCoy is saved from a phaser blast to his gut as Jim barrels into him, knocking them both sideways. "Bones, stop! STOP! GO BACK!"

"Damn it, Jim, get off me! They'll die!" Leonard struggles under Kirk, who is smart enough to pin his flailing legs. (No kick this time, McCoy.)

"We'll die too, Bones!" Jim is yelling at McCoy and half-yelling orders into his communicator at the same time. (_"…need transport now, Scotty, NOW!"_)

"Not if you go back, you fool!"

Jim gets right in his face (time almost stops at this instant) and says fiercely, "Never leaving you again, Bones," and kisses him hard on the mouth.

Leonard only has a moment of shock (to gape) before they both dissolve into particles and, a second later, land with a thump on the transporter pad.

Jim rolls off McCoy, and Spock grabs Kirk's arm to help him up. "Captain, Commodore Gord has been placed in the brig. What are your orders?"

Kirk has no attention for McCoy now. He dives into his element. "Scotty, can you lock onto the bomb?"

"Aye, I think I can."

"Beam it as far out into space as you can."

"On it, Sir. And dinnae worry about the Enterprise, Captain, she's held through rougher shock-waves than one teeny blast."

As soon as they reach the bridge, Kirk tosses out, "Do we have a location on the cruiser that Gord came from?" (McCoy trails along, stops at the railing in a sort of stupor.)

"Keptin," Chekov answers. "It's already heading away from the asteroid. Shall we follow?"

"Plot the course."

"Jim," McCoy interrupts. "What about the Valissans and the Orions?"

"It's their fight now, Bones. We have bigger fish to catch."


	10. Chapter 9

**I decided to post the last two chapters (8 & 9) at the same time. Thus, this story is complete and you don't even have to wait an extra day!**

**Chapter Nine**

A civilian cruiser is no match for a starship, no matter the amount of money it cost or the new technology it incorporates. Scotty will gladly tell any who asks about this; and as his favorite example, he talks of the time the Enterprise 'ran pearl all over that shiny dandy's toy.' What he means is this: the Enterprise catches up to Weston with little effort and grasps the cruiser by tractor beam before communications even begin.

"What authority do you have to bring me in?" demands a hard-eyed man. (McCoy stands off screen—Jim's idea.)

Kirk smiles very lazily. "I am Admiral James T. Kirk, currently in command of the Enterprise."

"Kirk… Ah, yes, a wonder-boy in a pair of political trainees. My congratulations, _Admiral_."

"Why, you—" Sulu puts a hand on Chekov, who has a black Russian scowl on his face. "Let him come over and say that about the Keptin!"

"It's alright, Chekov. This man knows we have him cornered. He's got nowhere to run and a long list of charges to face." Kirk faces the criminal from his Captain's chair, jaw like iron and eyes slit. "I'm placing you under arrest for murder. Be prepared to be boarded."

He cuts communication and turns to Spock. "How many life-signs aboard the vessel?"

"Four, Captain."

"Alright. Phasers on heavy-stun. Let's go."

Spock, Chekov, and Kirk return with a Mr. Weston and three silent crewmen in tow. They are escorted down to the brig and placed in a cell beside Gord, who cringes at the sight of his boss.

"I'd rather you allowed me to sit with my comrade." Weston says.

Kirk snorts. "Really? And have you snap the neck of the only man that will willingly testify against you? Think again." The brig locks.

McCoy rounds the corner, and Jim steps aside for him (but keeps close) as McCoy approaches the brig. He says nothing, just looks at the men responsible for the death of his friends (_for sweet Joy_) and a thousand Kausians. When he does speak, he has one question. "Can it be cured?"

Weston observes the doctor, his hands locked on a crossed knee. "I am unable to answer that. Sorry." In other words, he refuses. (McCoy's fist clenches.)

Gord is sitting down, his head in his hands (a great shame lining his shoulders). But he lifts his head now, to speak quietly from the next cell. "I know where the final testing of the plague is being performed. If there is a cure, it will be in that facility. If not, I am sure there is enough data to help you find it."

"Thank you."

As McCoy leaves, he meets another man's eyes (frozen-steel) for a moment. Then he is gone. ( Jim follows Bones.)

Out in the hallway, Jim asks, "You recognize any of the others?"

"Yes," McCoy replies somewhat tersely. "The dark-haired one. He's the fellow to watch out for—he's a killer, Jim. Make no mistake about it."

"I thought there was something off about him. Spock nerve-pinched him." He doesn't say _when he tried to shoot me with a hidden phaser_.

"He has no heart, I'll bet you. Just a cold merciless killer."

They stare at each other for a minute.

"Jim—"

"Bones—"

It brings out a chuckle in each man. McCoy sobers first, says, "You'd better get back to the bridge, Jim." His smile is sad. "Enjoy it while you can."

"And you?"

"I'm going to hang out with Scotty. See if he needs a pair of extra hands—even a doctor's hands."

They part ways.

* * *

Jim finally takes a call from Starfleet Command (who's been comm-ing them for hours on end) in his ready-room.

"Kirk!" It's Johnson (of all people) who appears on the screen. "Kirk, you've done it now! You'll be court-marshaled—you'll lose everything—"

Another admiral gently removes Johnson from view. "Admiral Kirk, you have an explanation for your actions. Let's hope it is a _very good_ one."

"How long do you have?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked how long you have, Admiral, to listen because the tale is quite long."

"Then give me the highlights."

"Alright," Kirk begins. "We've captured the killers who not only took the lives of the Kaus V Starfleet personnel but began the plague on Kaus V in first place."

The man is silent then. He clears his throat. "In custody, you say? All of them."

"Not, not all of them, but we do have sufficient evidence _and _testimony from a Commodore Gord—who was a part of the operation. You might want to keep this hush-hush, you understand, because I imagine that some very important officials are going to be implicated." Jim pauses. "Much like yourself."

The Admiral's face goes red, and he almost stammers. "N-No! I was completely unaware—"

Kirk grins (like a wolf). "Of course, I believe you. But regardless of who's party to such heinous crimes against the Federation—" (This Admiral on the screen is looking woozy.) "—I am merely informing you—_out of duty_—that we will be in dock soon. Have a good day, Admiral."

Spock enters the ready-room as he closes the comm-link.

"Jim, do you know of Doctor McCoy's whereabouts?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes—engineering."

"Negative."

"Then, actually, no I don't." Jim joins Spock at the door. "But I bet we can find him."

* * *

Leonard is star-gazing—crazy as it seems. They find him on the observation deck (_Not quite engineering, Bones_), one hand clasping a spoke of the giant wheel and his face absolutely blank.

"Bones?" Jim touches his shoulder lightly.

McCoy starts. "Jim? Spock? Sorry, I guess I was just lost in thought."

Jim cocks a hip against the wheel; Spock circles around to stand between McCoy and the pane of stars—placing Leonard in the middle.

Jim wants to know, "What were you thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know, Jim. Just reliving being on this ship, out in space again, I suppose."

"Are you saying that you miss it?"

McCoy snorts, crosses his arms. "There are some things I definitely _don't _miss. Like the hostile species that always tried to kill us, or the big mess of trouble that seemed to follow you around, Jim-boy. It's turned way too much hair gray in this head of mine."

"Maybe that's just age, Bones. Kidding, kidding!" Jim throws up his hands at the black look on McCoy's face. "I understand you, though. I miss it too. I miss this." He drags a hand across the plaque engraved with _To Boldly Go Where No Man Has Gone Before_.

Jim turns to Spock. "What about you, Spock? Is teaching as fascinating as being a science officer and my First?"

Spock's eyes almost gleam in the starlight. "Jim, teaching has its merits. And it is infinitely more safe."

Bones rolls his eyes. "Oh come on, Spock! Just tell the man what he wants to hear. It's the only way to shut him up."

Jim remarks jauntily, "Actually, I can think of several other ways to do that."

This time McCoy does go red, before pushing past Jim. If Spock's Vulcan ears pick up the low "Always such a damned tease…" he refrains from commenting.

They—all three in sync—walk along the corridor. Finally, McCoy speaks.

"Who knows, Jim, maybe we won't get discharged from service for our_ insubordination_." (Jim laughs _yeah right_.) "Maybe they'll demote you to Captain and give you back the Enterprise."

"And the crew along with it, Bones?"

"You never know." McCoy stops, bounces on the balls of his feet. "Stranger things have happened."

Jim is suddenly silent (serious in a heartbeat). He faces both Spock and McCoy. "I don't want the Enterprise if I can't have either of you with me."

"Jim—"

"No, Bones. Hear me out." Jim lays a hand on the bulkhead of the Enterprise. "What's a home without someone to share it with? I need you—both of you. I want you with me."

Spock asks, "And if you never again captain the Enterprise, Jim?"

Jim smiles a little. "We'll build a home elsewhere. _As long as we're together_."

McCoy swallows hard (like his heart is in his throat).

"What about it, Bones? Are you willing to try? Can you forgive me—us?"

Leonard looks first at Jim (this strong, wonderfully vibrant man) and then at Spock (a paradox—intrigue, brilliance, and grace in a single being). His voice is rough when he speaks. "I can try." _I think I can—even with this (lingering) pain in my chest. I hope I can. (I'll take your offers this time.) _

The light in Jim's eyes make them all the more striking. Kirk and McCoy touch each other, no words needed. Spock raises his hand to McCoy, fingers spayed. When McCoy asks silently _Are you sure?,_ Spock nods. They press fingertips together.

It's an incredible beginning to a beautiful relationship. In spite of everything, there is all the time in the galaxy for love.

_-Fini_

* * *

**Note: So this is what happens in my 'verse. Take ST:TMP and throw this baby in. Then shuffle around (or obliterate) a few movies and… volia! Jim gets the Captaincy back by helping Bones in this little fiasco, and the Enterprise is sent on another five-year mission in which our trio develops a lovely (and lovingly slashy) relationship.**

**And yes, I know, there may be questions concerning certain space pirates… but perhaps you'll get your answers in an one-shot that takes a look at these boys' futures (together). :)**

**(I'll admit myself, I was a little enamored of Captain Noreh too.)**

**Thank you all for the support! I just wanted a fic to show that, yes, Bones is _very_ capable of getting himself out of scrapes. But he also knows when to ask for help (even if he is a stubborn ol' goat-_one that we love_).**


End file.
